The knife Steampunk Spall Electra by Stefan Steigerwald
Steampunk Spall Electra — Meteorite, Mercury, and Ingenious Engineering
I swear, it wasn’t my idea. The suggestion to start a permanent “Folder Review” column came from our aesthete-bon vivant Apollinary Rublyov, and was enthusiastically supported by Larisa Kraft-Unfiltered (she never misses a chance to be proactive).
“Who’s going to do the first review?” — asked Larisa Ptolemeevna threateningly.
“I will!” — I thundered. Standing at attention, trying to look like the embodiment of zeal.
Larisa Ptolemeevna was surprised — perhaps even a little frightened — but her optimism won over experience. She must have thought that even Vasily the Handy could reform and become a devoted servant of the cause. Nonsense, of course. But by that time, Steampunk Spall Electra would have already been “reviewed” by Lara or Apollosha. And that, I could never allow.
Have you ever fallen in love with your friend’s wife? That bittersweet ache is exactly what I feel when I look at Steigerwald’s masterpiece. I’d give a lot to claim authorship of this folder. Steampunk Spall Electra is a flawless “engineer’s knife,” where every plane is harmonious, every movement — living beauty. Each detail feels like a standalone piece of art, and the noble materials, already magnificent by nature, reach transcendence through form.
A luxurious desk toy
This folder belongs to that rare breed of knives meant not for the field, but for the mind — a centerpiece in a collector’s cabinet. As its name suggests, it draws inspiration from steampunk, celebrating the romance of 19th-century steam machinery. Its handle mechanism directly references the motion of a locomotive’s driving wheels.
The knife’s mechanics could be studied for hours — opening and closing it, watching the mesmerizing dance of gears and rods, sparking blue light from diodes, or rolling tiny metal spheres in the built-in stress-relief puzzle above the pivot.
The cost and exclusivity of materials, the single-copy existence, the hand-built mechanics — all this gives Steampunk Spall Electra an aura of myth. It begs for a pedestal. And indeed, it has one.
Lights on the pedestal
To properly showcase his creation, Steigerwald built a pedestal of Damascus steel and anodized titanium. But he couldn’t simply let the knife rest statically — he engineered a mechanism that raises the blade and ignites a flash of blue light across the handle’s surface.
The electrification is equally inventive: beneath one of the screws hides a tiny battery, its contacts extending into a hermetically sealed glass capsule. Inside — a droplet of mercury that, when the knife tilts, rolls across and closes the circuit, summoning a spark of blue flame.
Stress relief under glass
Another playful “aquarium” sits near the pivot. Under a tough glass dome, tiny steel balls roll freely. The goal — to guide them into three recesses without letting them get stuck in the pivot screw slots. A touch of nostalgic fun in a high-luxury piece — I find it utterly charming.
Unfold the magic
The main delight, though, lies in the folding itself. To close the knife, one must engage a blue anodized titanium lever along the spine. Shifting it disengages the lock. The rest is manual — and that’s when Steigerwald’s magic truly unfolds.
As you fold the blade, the handle “breaks” into two halves, expanding to absorb the edge. When reopened, the parts slide back together with perfect precision, gears and levers in graceful motion. The entire knife feels alive.
Cosmic iron and damascus mosaic
The materials match the genius of its design. The blade is forged from complex mosaic damascus by American smith Hank Knickmeyer and hardened to 60 HRC. The profile — a European-style drop point.
The geometric mosaic patterns echo the silvery-gray shades of the handle — forged from meteorite iron. The cosmic matrix, etched and revealed, once drifted through galaxies before falling to Earth and becoming part of Steampunk Spall Electra.
The muted gray of the meteorite and damascus is brought to life by azure and golden accents. Most fittings — screws, spacers, pivot — are crafted from premium damascus and colored through anodizing. Two elements, however — the lever and connecting rod — are made from Timascus, the titanium damascus, striped in blue and bronze. The finishing touch: faceted ruby stones inlaid into the screw heads and pivot cap.
The knife and its company
The Steampunk Spall Electra comes in a Pelican case — as strong as the knife is beautiful — fitted with a pressure valve. Inside: disassembly tools, spare batteries, the damascus-titanium pedestal, and a signed certificate from Stefan Steigerwald himself.
Steampunk Spall Electra is a masterpiece of knife art — a fusion of mechanical genius and sculptural form, worthy of a museum or the finest private collection. Alas, I could never afford it (nor could most museums, I suspect). Perhaps its destiny is to grace the mahogany desk of a CEO from a railway conglomerate — someone who’d truly appreciate the homage to locomotive motion hidden within this meteorite marvel.
If, like me, you’ve fallen under the spell of Stefan Steigerwald’s mechanical artistry, visit the Maria Stalina Knives website to discover more of his extraordinary creations.
