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Art. A word that immediately has our intellectual and cultural sensibilities on defense mode. Reams have been written in order to define that certain something that can’t quite be defined. For centuries. Philosophers have squabbled over it. Anonymous bidders pay an insane price for it – only to hide breathtaking beauty away from a world that could always do with more. But this is not really just about art. It is specifically about the unarguable art that lies at the core of the handmade. Soul is a word that frequently comes up in any discussion on what invests the handmade with such inherent superiority.

And what is curious and undeniable is we know art when we see it. Or rather sense it. It speaks to our nerve endings before it does to our minds. Maybe that is what makes art so hard to capture – it rebels against the neat boxes of words. It is about that inconvenient phenomenon that makes grown men frown with suspicion. Feeling. The handmade is about a transmission of sense, thought and application. You can literally see the slightest tremor of the hand physically mirrored in the slightest inexact execution – the sign that a human hand was at work, a human spirit breathed life into this bag or wallet or belt that has because of this very inexactitude transcended thingness because a soul has literally entered.

So the handmade is beautiful. Imperfection makes it beautiful. Because imperfection is evidence of human agency. And that is what moves us, charms us. Our breath is taken away by what it is possible to conceive and then to create. Feast your eyes on the sublime Ducorium collection of subtly shaded two-toned leather creations to experience the beauty of the handmade.

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