Tactility
There's a wonderful joy to enjoy in the tactile nature of everyday objects. A nice clicky button, a somewhat loud keyboard, a thonky light-switch. For some strange reason these tiny moments can instill in me a tremendous motivation to do something, and a tangible sense of joy. I'm left wondering why. How can such a small and arbitrary thing be so compelling?
In our current world, more and more things are operated with touchscreens. The move from buttons to touchscreens makes a lot of sense on the surface. Screens allow for infinite configurability, patching after release, multiple use of the same physical space, and hence their adoption has been swift ever since the prices of touchscreens was low enough. However, touchscreens miss one crucial feature that a physical button has, immediate and direct feedback. How often have you pressed a button and not be sure if anything really happened? Did it register? Is it broken? You simply do not know.
This lack of feedback in most appliances and tools nowadays leaves me feeling deprived for direct feedback, and longing for something simpler, something more understandable. The daily friction and frustration drive an urge, an urge for something different.
It's why I love using a 35mm film camera, every shutter press a delight. Every winding of the lever brings me joy. Particularly compared to digital equivalents where these sounds are now often simulated with a little speaker.
But this doesn't answer why tactility is satisfying in itself. Only why I crave it due to recent absence.
Tactility brings a kind of presence to the use of objects. The direct feedback it provides also gives a feeling of intentionality, every movement and action exactly as intended and fully present in the moment. With a digital camera I can easily take 1000 photos without giving it a moments though, especially with my phone. An analogue camera brings me into the moment, makes me consider the picture I am taking, creating a meditative space in that moment. The lack of tactility especially with phone pictures makes it feel ephemeral, forgotten as soon as it's produced.
It's why I've loved using a mechanical keyboard, for every tick and tock brings me into the words I write. Or how I've started using a fountain-pen for journaling, as I'm so much more thoughtful and introspective when I feel my pen slide across paper. A kind of mindfulness from the physical sensation pulls me into whatever I'm doing, allowing me to forget about what's next, about whatever is rushing around in my head. All that remains is focus.
There's a great joy to be found in the tactility in objects, and because of it's effects I think it can help one live a happier and more present life. To see, instead of looking, to feel instead of touching, to experience life.