One of my biggest fears (other than cat illnesses and water death) is what will happen to my stuff. Ostensibly, about 90% of what I have lying about are the bits and bobs of long dead people, but they've become mine, utterly. They ARE ME. I'm terrified that an object I daily looked upon with joy for 30+ years will become trash to whomever ends up disseminating my estate. It literally keeps me up at night. Well, at dawn. My fears always creep in with the sun.
There's a dresser I got from a gay couple who were downsizing on Aldrich in 2008 as David and I were walking back from somewhere to my apartment at Hennepin and Franklin. It's late Victorian, and someone, maybe them, decided the original hardware (floppy clangy pulls) and locks on the drawers needed to be filled in with wood putty and replaced with the most generic brass ox hammered knobs. I don't fault them for this, it adds a charm. David and I carried this dresser for four blocks, and I paid $30 for it. I also picked up a box of really thick, heavy coffee cups with moose on them from them. There's gilt around the rim. I love them, but they're impractical for every day and mostly sit in my buffet. But I'll never get rid of them. I remember the summer day they came into my life. Those memories are me. How can we ever be separated?
I feel like that's what makes things treasures to begin with, that you can feel the people who loved them before you. But you have to be open to receiving that energy, and some are definitely overwhelmed by it. I am energized by it.
This was a really interesting read! Your reflections on the obsession with minimalism made me think of recent pieces I’ve read about how ornamentation and embellishments have all but disappeared from modern architecture - we’ve flattened and simplified our spaces both inside and out, largely for the sake of saving money and a “cleaner” look. But I feel like we’ve erased a lot as a result in doing so, like you mention about the cafes, no space has any distinct individuality/personality. I’m drawn to the notion in your essay about how objects can cultivate that sense of personality in a space, give us something to see and experience, but I wonder how we might determine what those things are, what the truly individual ones are, in a world that is so consumer-centric and full of mass-produced goods.
An excellent piece that really piqued my interest this morning. Your piece inspired in me the thought that this push towards a minimalist, hyper-clean aesthetic is partly gendered and tied to women needing to present a clean, efficient space. The woman that has it all (family, career, home) must display supreme home management, stripping anything that interferes with the aerodynamics of being perfect. Sentimental objects become detritus that impede the view of that performance.
I love what you said about social media collapsing past into present, the way that the sentimal objects are economically toxic—the "what was" clashing with or even negating the heavily workshopped and aspirational being one tries to embody for the public eye (which, these days, is everywhere). I was sort of noodling about these thoughts over the weekend, and this essay brought them into much clearer focus. Thank you for sharing your incisive thoughts. 💙
Oh that gendered expectation of the minimal is so perfect - thank you for that insight! "The aerodynamics of being perfect" really captures it. Thank you so much for reading!
As someone who has an office that's 90% stuff, I 100% relate. Among my many Things are a cluster of memory boxes filled with receipts, greeting cards, and concert tickets going back to the late '90s. Last time I moved, my friends asked why I keep all of these things, especially since I almost never open those boxes and look through the contents. But that's not why they're there. They're there because, if I become someone who can delete 25+ years of his life in order to take up less space, or make moving easier, or any other practical or aesthetic reason, then who have I become? I don't want to be someone who decides Something doesn't matter, because it makes it easier to decide Nothing matters.
Also, as is typical of your essays, this one comes with at least half a dozen emotional gut punches. I appreciate how often you begin by addressing one thing, but then expand into addressing Everything through the lens of that topic. It's always a conceptual roller coaster, and I'm grateful for the ideas it brings to life.
We just marked our first year as homeowners but prior to that we moved apartments every other year since like 2006. That push and pull between keeping or getting rid of things is so so so familiar. There's always a tipping point in the move where I just want to toss everything because I'm just too overwhelmed and stressed. I haven't thought twice about probably 90% of the things we've gotten rid of, but that last 10%...I have some regrets.
You hit on it exactly though: we have the space now, we don't have yet another move looming over our heads, we have a place we intend to stay for a good long while. I think it's a good exercise to not get too attached to your things and to really think about what you need vs want, but your things also bring a lot of life to a space, they make it your home and not just a place where you pass the time, they tell a story. That's not always a bad thing, I don't think.
Thanks for this piece and inspiring a lot of reflection, as always!
I loved this. I am not a fan of clutter, but my husband and I are both collectors of various media: Books, music (CD's and vinyl), and films. I also make physical photo albums out of our iphone pics. People come to our house and are shocked by how much of these things we own. We're a young Gen Xer and an elder millenial! We're supposed to be completely digitized. I've never been a fan of streaming services anyway, but after also reading Filterworld recently, I made a commitment to myself to continue to remain as far from them as I can. Obviously they are unavoidable in many contexts (like Instagram, which I use prodigiously), but I don't have Netflix, or Spotify, or anything like that. I really love the joy of owning things. I still fucking buy CD's. My film collection, for instance, is highly curated, and sometimes I love to just stand and stare at all of the spines like they themselves are works of art. Same with my books. They make me genuinely happy, and feel like they represent a map of my past, and my heart. I have no idea what will happen to it all when we die, and I guess I don't really care, but these objects feel like my life. We are sacrificing so much with our devotion to minimalism, algorithms, and digital lives. I think we're all going to regret it someday. I'll stop shaking my fist at clouds now.
Great piece, Patrick. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend Becca Rothfeld’s book All Things Are Too Small. She has a chapter about Marie Kondo and the general diminishment of our memories that really rhymes with what you’re getting at here
One of my biggest fears (other than cat illnesses and water death) is what will happen to my stuff. Ostensibly, about 90% of what I have lying about are the bits and bobs of long dead people, but they've become mine, utterly. They ARE ME. I'm terrified that an object I daily looked upon with joy for 30+ years will become trash to whomever ends up disseminating my estate. It literally keeps me up at night. Well, at dawn. My fears always creep in with the sun.
There's a dresser I got from a gay couple who were downsizing on Aldrich in 2008 as David and I were walking back from somewhere to my apartment at Hennepin and Franklin. It's late Victorian, and someone, maybe them, decided the original hardware (floppy clangy pulls) and locks on the drawers needed to be filled in with wood putty and replaced with the most generic brass ox hammered knobs. I don't fault them for this, it adds a charm. David and I carried this dresser for four blocks, and I paid $30 for it. I also picked up a box of really thick, heavy coffee cups with moose on them from them. There's gilt around the rim. I love them, but they're impractical for every day and mostly sit in my buffet. But I'll never get rid of them. I remember the summer day they came into my life. Those memories are me. How can we ever be separated?
it really does make you wonder how much of your soul ends up in items like that, and how long it will linger for someone else once you're not there
I feel like that's what makes things treasures to begin with, that you can feel the people who loved them before you. But you have to be open to receiving that energy, and some are definitely overwhelmed by it. I am energized by it.
This was a really interesting read! Your reflections on the obsession with minimalism made me think of recent pieces I’ve read about how ornamentation and embellishments have all but disappeared from modern architecture - we’ve flattened and simplified our spaces both inside and out, largely for the sake of saving money and a “cleaner” look. But I feel like we’ve erased a lot as a result in doing so, like you mention about the cafes, no space has any distinct individuality/personality. I’m drawn to the notion in your essay about how objects can cultivate that sense of personality in a space, give us something to see and experience, but I wonder how we might determine what those things are, what the truly individual ones are, in a world that is so consumer-centric and full of mass-produced goods.
This reminds me of that piece I keep promising myself to write about despicable architecture. Thank you for the extra push! <3
An excellent piece that really piqued my interest this morning. Your piece inspired in me the thought that this push towards a minimalist, hyper-clean aesthetic is partly gendered and tied to women needing to present a clean, efficient space. The woman that has it all (family, career, home) must display supreme home management, stripping anything that interferes with the aerodynamics of being perfect. Sentimental objects become detritus that impede the view of that performance.
I love what you said about social media collapsing past into present, the way that the sentimal objects are economically toxic—the "what was" clashing with or even negating the heavily workshopped and aspirational being one tries to embody for the public eye (which, these days, is everywhere). I was sort of noodling about these thoughts over the weekend, and this essay brought them into much clearer focus. Thank you for sharing your incisive thoughts. 💙
Oh that gendered expectation of the minimal is so perfect - thank you for that insight! "The aerodynamics of being perfect" really captures it. Thank you so much for reading!
As someone who has an office that's 90% stuff, I 100% relate. Among my many Things are a cluster of memory boxes filled with receipts, greeting cards, and concert tickets going back to the late '90s. Last time I moved, my friends asked why I keep all of these things, especially since I almost never open those boxes and look through the contents. But that's not why they're there. They're there because, if I become someone who can delete 25+ years of his life in order to take up less space, or make moving easier, or any other practical or aesthetic reason, then who have I become? I don't want to be someone who decides Something doesn't matter, because it makes it easier to decide Nothing matters.
Also, as is typical of your essays, this one comes with at least half a dozen emotional gut punches. I appreciate how often you begin by addressing one thing, but then expand into addressing Everything through the lens of that topic. It's always a conceptual roller coaster, and I'm grateful for the ideas it brings to life.
Right about everything perhaps especially Bradley Cooper
We just marked our first year as homeowners but prior to that we moved apartments every other year since like 2006. That push and pull between keeping or getting rid of things is so so so familiar. There's always a tipping point in the move where I just want to toss everything because I'm just too overwhelmed and stressed. I haven't thought twice about probably 90% of the things we've gotten rid of, but that last 10%...I have some regrets.
You hit on it exactly though: we have the space now, we don't have yet another move looming over our heads, we have a place we intend to stay for a good long while. I think it's a good exercise to not get too attached to your things and to really think about what you need vs want, but your things also bring a lot of life to a space, they make it your home and not just a place where you pass the time, they tell a story. That's not always a bad thing, I don't think.
Thanks for this piece and inspiring a lot of reflection, as always!
I loved this. I am not a fan of clutter, but my husband and I are both collectors of various media: Books, music (CD's and vinyl), and films. I also make physical photo albums out of our iphone pics. People come to our house and are shocked by how much of these things we own. We're a young Gen Xer and an elder millenial! We're supposed to be completely digitized. I've never been a fan of streaming services anyway, but after also reading Filterworld recently, I made a commitment to myself to continue to remain as far from them as I can. Obviously they are unavoidable in many contexts (like Instagram, which I use prodigiously), but I don't have Netflix, or Spotify, or anything like that. I really love the joy of owning things. I still fucking buy CD's. My film collection, for instance, is highly curated, and sometimes I love to just stand and stare at all of the spines like they themselves are works of art. Same with my books. They make me genuinely happy, and feel like they represent a map of my past, and my heart. I have no idea what will happen to it all when we die, and I guess I don't really care, but these objects feel like my life. We are sacrificing so much with our devotion to minimalism, algorithms, and digital lives. I think we're all going to regret it someday. I'll stop shaking my fist at clouds now.
Great piece, Patrick. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend Becca Rothfeld’s book All Things Are Too Small. She has a chapter about Marie Kondo and the general diminishment of our memories that really rhymes with what you’re getting at here
A good piece. I doubt there's a soul reading it that doesn't see something of themself in it.