Minimalism Isn’t Always the Answer
by Elena Chen
I used to pride myself on being an easy packer. Lightweight jackets that functioned as both windbreaker and raincoat. I would feel so reassured that I could just uproot my whole life and leave a place with two suitcases and a backpack. That's what I did for the longest time. For the last ten years, actually, I've lived in more than fifteen apartments and houses and I've always been able to up and leave. This last year, as I packed up everything once again, I realized I was no longer that person. Minimalist is not going to be the adjective I use to describe the twenty-three boxes jammed with craft paper and yarn (a modest two boxes did the job) and sculpting tools and acrylic paints and clothes (oh, so many clothes) and cookware and stuff. I have a lot more stuff. I also happen to have stuff my parents are keeping for me and some more stuff in London where I used to study and a whole untouched bike in New York when I was living there. I guess I upped and left all these places and it was always easier to have less than more. In my twenty-three boxes was more though, more of my life. It was all the things I loved and wanted to move into my new life with. Starting in a new place doesn't have to mean starting over.
Along with my "clean break" mentality when moving came the complementary question: "But do I really need it?". If I was going to inevitably move again, why accumulate more stuff that would be a headache to deal with later? I never stopped to wonder how limiting this way of thinking was. I denied myself the tools through which I could be myself. This is to say, as someone deeply moved by fashion and intrinsically motivated to create, I was deprived of the material but nevertheless necessary goods for self expression.
When COVID hit and I had some time to be without visa or moving concerns, I finally started really acquiring some stuff that I would keep. Baking utensils, fiber supplies and sculpting tools. I allocated an allowance for paint and shrink plastic so that I could explore these crafts I was convinced were too frivolous to try. This last year of experimenting with fiber arts, dabbling in clay and goofing around more with fashion has just made my experience of life a thousand times more lived in. I had been holding back. And I'm still holding back.
We're traveling in Japan to see friends and to eat great food. We were in desperate need of a vacation and a refresh. As we're nearing the end of our trip, we have made quite a few purchases. A lot of gifts for friends and family but also a lot of clothing and household goods for us too. As I made these decisions, to add more weight to our luggages, to add more stuff in my life, I found myself questioning these choices. Do I really want to be so materialistic? Do I really need this stuff? Isn't this feeding into the consumerist tendency I should step away from? I don't want to ever advocate materialism.
Our trip in Japan has been so delightful and memorable because of our experiences and not because of the things we're bringing home. But objects exist in spaces other than the material. I'm sure the anthropological, empirical, sociological, psychological and historical data will substantiate the symbolic role of things in the anthology of human society. Even for other animals, nests, drawings, and toys are part of the makeup of their worlds. The excessive attribution of meaning to things is not to be overlooked, since we may think that certain anthropomorphic objects can fulfill our needs for human connection or even find an unimaginable solace in collecting one too many units of something. That being said, in the new ceramic hashioki pieces we picked up, the new-to-me secondhand items I bought, the handcrafted carbon steel knives we sourced and the many bags of varied Japanese tea acquired, I have found a renewed affirmation of my values. My purchasing power, being directed at sustainable fashion, handmade craftsmanship and an enjoyment of life, feels more like a statement towards living a life that I can be proud of. These things we've accumulated aren't just taking up space. They are a reminder of what's important to us. They encourage me to create and to think differently. How can this enamel coated chopstick push us to cook more Asian food for our friends and family? What a joy it is to have a memento of this inspiring culture of design and innovation with us.
Kohyo Rinko ceramic bowl, made in Japan
Whether as a tool to encourage experimentation and play or a souvenir of a value system, our objects can aid us to explore more of ourselves and what we find meaningful in life. We should be vigilant to overconsumption or unintentional consumption but under the right conditions objects can help us expand and enhance our experiences in life. I have had to get much better at packing since I'm bringing more that matters to me with me. If a lot matters to me, then I just have to make room for it all. As Winnie the Pooh said: "How lucky I am to have something[s] that make saying goodbye so hard".
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KARA
