Okay, so today I wanted to talk about this whole Paul Zeise thing I went through a while back. It’s funny how you stumble onto things. I think I first heard the name mentioned offhand in some old forum thread, buried deep somewhere online. Wasn’t much info, just someone saying something like “classic Paul Zeise simplicity” or whatever.
That got me curious. Who was this guy? I started digging around. Took me a good few evenings, just typing the name into search engines, looking through digital archives, that sort of thing. Honestly, not much came up. Like, almost nothing concrete. Bits and pieces, mentions here and there, mostly about some supposed design philosophy from decades ago. Very stripped down, very minimal. Less is more, but taken to an extreme, almost invisible design. That was the vibe I got.
My Little Experiment
So, I thought, okay, let’s try this. I decided to apply this “Zeise philosophy,” as I understood it, to my own little side project at the time. It was a small wooden box I was making, just for myself, to hold some tools. My goal: make it functional, but with the absolute minimum of stuff. Minimum joints, minimum finishing, minimum everything.
The process was… weird. I spent more time thinking about what not to do than actually doing anything.
- Choosing the wood: I kept second-guessing. Is this piece too figured? Does the grain distract? Took ages.
- Joining the pieces: I wanted the simplest joinery possible. Ended up trying some basic butt joints reinforced in a way I hoped was ‘invisible’. It felt flimsy.
- Sanding and finishing: I barely sanded it. Left tool marks. No finish. Just raw wood. Paul Zeise probably would approve? Who knows.
Every step felt counterintuitive. Usually, you want to add things – reinforcement, a nice finish, maybe some decoration. Here, I was actively fighting that urge. I’d pick up a tool, then put it back down, thinking, “Is this really necessary?” It was maddening sometimes. My workshop looked like I hadn’t even started half the time.
What Happened?
Well, I finished the box. It holds tools, technically. But it’s rough. Really rough. It looks unfinished, almost accidental. It does the job, sure, but it doesn’t exactly spark joy, you know? It’s just… there. Barely.
Trying to follow this obscure idea, this ghost of Paul Zeise, taught me something though. It forced me to think about purpose. Why add that extra screw? Why sand it smoother? Why put varnish on? Sometimes there are good reasons, sometimes it’s just habit or because it ‘looks nice’.
I didn’t become a hardcore minimalist overnight. Not even close. My later projects went back to having proper joints and a decent finish. But that little experiment stuck with me. Now, when I’m working on something, I do find myself pausing more often, asking that question: “Is this truly needed?” Sometimes the answer is still yes, but sometimes it’s no. And that Paul Zeise box? It’s still in the workshop, a reminder of that weird little deep dive into intentional subtraction.
