My Favorite Tupperware

If you've spoken to me recently, you've probably heard me rail on plastic in some way, be it plastic water bottles, bottled water, plastic in the ocean or the plastic that my body wash comes in. Or the fact that 32% of the St. Louis City waste stream is plastic. But that does not mean that I don't love and appreciate plastic, because I do. Oh yes I do.

There is no denying that plastic has launched us to new places for civilization. And I think it is truly a remarkable material, but that does not mean that it is justified for use in every situation, nor does it mean that its disposibility is a good thing. We have some serious plastic problems, but that's a whole different story.

I really want to talk about one kind of plastic storage container that I love more than any other.

The Ziploc twist-lid tupperwares.

I realize that tupperware is a brand name, but please just go with me on it.

I miraculously inherited these from Maya. Originally, there were 3 small sized ones (pictured here) and 2 large ones (double the height). I started using them because I could fit an entire day worth of food in one of the large ones (4 cups of grains, vegetables and protein). But what really drew me to them was the way that the design solved so many of my fundamental problems with other tupperwares.

One of my biggest tupperware issues is transport of liquid-like food. Fruit, beans, sauces and let's not even start on soup, always leaked out into my backpack from traditional tupperware. The Ziploc containers, however, have a screwtop lid, providing a tighter seal (and an opportunity for me to squeeze them very hard before deciding it was satisfactory). This helps to prevent a lot of the stupid dripping I've experienced in the past. They aren't perfect, and this feature actually makes them relatively difficult to clean (among other cleaning flaws), but it certainly helps. It also helps that the small size is exactly the right size to fit inside Ziploc freezer bags (I do not think this was intentional).

Another big one is the size. I don't exactly eat measured portions, but I like to try to balance how much I eat. Well, these tupperwares are labeled on the side! There are lines that mark out 1 cup and 2 cups (the total volume of the smaller container). That way, I know that I'm eating 1.5 cups of rice, 1 cup of beans and .5 cups of tomatoes. Perfect!

Also, these things are stackable. Despite having easy grip handles (or depressions, more accurately), they fit perfectly inside each other, which helps me store them in my massive tupperware collection.

The downsides are that in the heat, they mold very easily, and when you wash them they have lots of little places to accumulate water, and as a result are constantly spraying your other dry dishes when you put them away.

So what do these tupperware containers say about me? Design must combine the practical and the functional. They solve a basic problem that should be so straightforward for lunch gear (leaking), and address an issue in a very simplistic way that I didn't even know that I wanted to have addressed. Overall, props on a good design to Ziploc. The real question is how much cancer am I getting from microwaving my lunch in them everyday?

My Cellular Unit

One time, Oliver was looking at my phone and he said, to me something along these lines:

"You would have a nokia, you designer."

Despite all the terrible things I think about my current phone, that was a huge compliment. I suppose this actually happened when I still had my previous phone...but they are very similar (except in the design details that are driving this new model into the ground).

Let's get out there to begin with that I own this phone because it is the cheapest one you can get, period. That is the number one reason. The number two reason is that it is not a flip phone, and I do not like flip phones.

But the design reason is because I do not want all those features and crap. If they're not going to work beautifully and elegantly (and really, the only one I've found that I find acceptable is the iPhone, sad to say), I'm not interested. Why would I want a crappy tiny camera? Or a web browser system for a screen that's as big as my thumb? Or any other additional buttons? Or whatever?

So my old phone fit my needs perfectly. It basically had 4 functions: call, text, calendar, alarm. You could change the sound on the alarm, it was easy to use, the buttons had a pleasing response, it didn't break easily but was easy to clean and small to carry around. I didn't have a headset for it but I also had a landline for most of that time, so it was not a serious concern. When that phone pooped out (bastards turned off its software!), I got it's older cousin, as pictured here.

And this phone is not all that I hope that it cracked up to be. The buttons do not have the responsiveness. In fact, it's a struggle to dial on them, even without gloves on (and on a bike with gloves on you might as well kiss your phone call goodbye). It spontaneously hangs up, has backwards features and does weird things like saving your text messages all the time (without you asking), and not allowing you to change the alarm tone. Overall, it's unsatisfactory for me. But, it is the cheapest phone, and it doesn't have all the features I don't want.

What I see as being unique about this particular design is the fact that the things that I don't want define the thing that I do want. I'm looking for simplicity and easy use, and not having features that don't function to their full ability. This is reflected in a lot of my design choices, when I have that opportunity (for example, the tool bar on my computers, which is minimized of clutter to the max for most efficient usage). But here, rather than saying I want this this and this, I say I don't want a camera, a computer or a gps device. It's almost a negative space approach to object programming!

The Long Haul (Trucker)

My bicycle is the single most important object in my life right now. A graduation present from my parents, this was the fourth or fifth bike that I test rode before deciding this was the one I wanted. I was expecting a greater struggle to find what I was looking for, but there was no question that this was exactly the bike I was looking for from the first time I rode it.

A brief history of this bike and me: I was convinced to get on it by a baby-faced employee at Big Shark (who questionably still works there), and rode one that was a little too big. I liked the color, the bar-end shifters, and the way that it rode, but was hesitant about the heavier steel frame and even about the drop handlebars in general. I had ridden my previous bike, a hybrid mountain bike, for nearly 9 years, and was used to being totally upright and not going very fast. This bike is not exactly built for speed, but is a big speed improvement on my previous ride. It is, however, built for moving stuff around, as it's generally recognized as a touring bike for longer rides. The steel frame means that it absorbs bumps better, and it's got nice little long distance features like a built-in rack for extra spokes on the frame.

After test riding it the first time, I went home to think about it. There was another bike I wanted to test ride, but they didn't have a single one even close to my size in the city, so I went back to Big Shark to order the bike in my size. A few weeks later, it arrived. I went down (in the middle of a chaotic day at work) and rode it, and then came back the next day to pick it up and have it fitted. From then on, I've been cruising all over the city (and to Belleville, although not back).

So when I rode over the glass yesterday morning and the hissing came screaming out of my back tire, I almost started crying. It was like dropping a baby. I didn't mean to hurt it, but I had. The sad noise it made all the way to the store in the afternoon was way painful, and I tried to carry it to stop it. When I flatted again in the evening, there was no way I could carry it all the way up Grand to the Metro, so I was stuck listening to the squishing noise all the way home.

The dependence that I feel on my bike was suddenly reversed by the dependence that it has on me. As an object, it is not useful or functional (although it is pretty) unless I'm riding it all the time. Yet, I depend on it so fully that when it flatted in the morning, it took me about 3 minutes to figure out how to get to work (I live 10 minutes walking from my office). I couldn't imagine transporting myself without it.

And this is where the paradigm of my bicycle is so different from that of our society. When so many Americans seem to be grappling with what to do now that their cars are unattainable, I'm back in some kind of "primitive world" where I wonder what to do without a bike. Without, I only have walking (which I hate), the bus (which is slow and doesn't go exactly where I want) or bumming rides (less than ideal). To continue my lifestyle, I rely on my two wheels.

So today, after getting it fixed and rolling again, I biked out to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's to pick some things up, and just to prove that in fact, I was OK and could go where I wanted to. I
don't have any desire to sever my connection to my bicycle, even if it is an unhealthy attachment. It's too useful to me to deny.

In terms of the design of my bike, there are a few features that define it for me. The steel frame, and the brand itself, although I don't like to admit it, are big selling points. I've randomly won all these cool points with real bikers for having this bike with a steel frame and a Surly tag. The frame does serve my purposes exactly—I'm not feeling shock up and down my arms from the relatively nasty roads I ride on. I love the bar-end shifters for the simplicity of their use, and how they make it possible for me to not worry about shifting while breaking (which on the other road bikes were driving me crazy). I love the size and feel of the handlebars in my hand, which fit me exactly (surprisingly since I'm probably one of the smallest riders of this bike). The geometry of the frame and the ability for so many racks both serve me very well.

So, what I get out of this is that one of the objects I'm best defined by is the one that is the most useful to me, and the one that I rely on the most. As a result, I've developed a deep attachment to it and a commitment to it's wellbeing. Hopefully we can avoid more glass in the future...

It's Never Over

Class may have ended, but my infatuation with objects seems to be just beginning.

Yesterday, I blew out the back tire on my bicycle twice on glass—once in the morning, and then again in the evening after I had had it fixed. All day, when I thought about my bike, I felt a physical pain, maybe a greater reaction than one should really feel within normal bounds when associating with an object. Although I don't believe that humans are defined by their objects, or that humanity is defined by objects, I do think they say a lot about us, and that is what I'm most interested in.

So, I've decided to rededicate this blog to a study of objects and how they define me, and how they define others around me. I'm not sure exactly how this will develop, but as I've found with my other blogging projects, I do better if I set tangible goals before I start.

I would like to look at the objects that are most important in my life, and the ones that define me in some way, especially in relationship to their design. I'm seeking to answer the question: what does the design of this object, and my expectations for the design, say about who I am as a person? How does the design affect the individual functionality of the object in terms of MY use as an individual user? I hope to also address these questions for others around me, so this isn't all my objects, all the time.

The goal is two objects a week, and maybe some in between things on the glory of objects. Maybe this will lead me to the direction that I'm looking for in this interest. Who knows?

What is reflected back at you?

"To see is to be seen...everything I see is like an eye, collecting my gaze..." (Elkins, The Object Stares Back)

Through our work with objects this semester, I've become more aware of the specific way that I view every object—as a practical set of choices made by an individual (or group of individuals). All object serve some sort of function, and for me, the joy of objects is deciphering and appreciating those choices, whether they are effective or not. I also discovered that I enjoy observing the progression of these choices through history. These decisions build upon each other and become more honed (and more appropriate) for each situation as progression happens.

One of the field trips that I most enjoyed was to SLAM. Although I had visited the decorative arts section of the museum before, I had not really taken the time to appreciate this part of the museum that I like so much (I love practical objects). What was so striking about this trip was observing the different contexts in which the objects were created, and yet the similarities between the materials and form. This reemphasized the point to me that everything old becomes new again at some point—which ended up being echoed throughout the semester.

At the Campbell house, another trip which I enjoyed significantly, I spent a lot of time looking at the specific decisions made in the decoration and furnishing of the house, especially in the context of what was available to the family at that point in time. I found that there were many uses that were difficult to decipher from form alone, for example, the bells in the kitchen. I was also struck by the physical changes in scale of the objects in the Campbell House in relation to what we consider to be normal scale today. Many of the chairs were much lower to the ground, while much of the artwork was much larger than I anticipated. I wondered if these formal choices were specific, or if they were just style.

I found that when I compared my approach to objects to my classmates approaches that I took a more holistic approach to dealing with them. Rather than just considering the physical object, or the history, or the human affect, I was concerned with the relationship between these, and other , ways of understanding the objects. When we did the group presentations on the fields of study, I was very intrigued by the discussion of philosophy, because that was a way that I had never considered an object. The implications of interactions of objects (especially the -ness of everything in relation to an object) was nearly too much for me to grasp. I was uncomfortable with the metaphysical concept of objects, and wanted to be more grounded again in tangible ideas that I could grapple with using a physical object, like history or even psychology. I was glad that we did not explore this subject much further, because I think I would have been at a loss trying to understand it.

One topic that I also really connected to (because I had many examples of it to work from, I think) was collecting. I spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like for my parents (or I guess myself) to start a museum or an endow a gift of the many specifically collected objects we possess. Reading about the specifics of collection gave me insight into how these collections relate to the greater sphere. I was particularly interested in the concept of in situ collecting—and if putting an object in a collection takes it entirely out of circulation. One thing that I thought about was my father's collection of crazy glasses. He uses them, although they're also a collection. The story behind why he has them is important, but not as important as the formal qualities. The glasses, however, are not in an entirely stationary point in their life cycle. Rather, the experiences that my family creates using those classes becomes part of their story and adds to their history. Maybe if they were in a glass case and were never used, their life would entirely pause, but that is not currently the case.

A question that this brought up for me was about the idea of in situ for the objects, and what makes the appropriate in situ. I wondered how my own belief that all choices about objects are specific decisions influenced how I think about in situ observation. I found that I believe that even though objects may be in an alien use, they are still in a particular situation. One example of this was the clip of antiques roadshow that we watched where there was curio cabinet that had been modified from its original, and was therefore worth less, even though the modifications had happened a long time ago in history. In my opinion, this object should be as valuable, if not more, because of the modifications, which represented particular historical design decisions and added more to the life history of the object. However, this is not the way that the collecting market sees objects. Instead, those decisions are seen as flaws and affronts to the original design. This makes me curious about what happens to objects that are meant to be modified and how their significance or impact relates. For example, if we considered a specific tag wall as an object, it would have been modified and perhaps mutilated from it's original form, but would that make it any less valuable? Is the value in the process, or is the value in the original? This is a question that I continue to grapple with. As a designer, there is a desire to have the value in the original, since that was the concept that you presented and worked on; yet it is simultaneously significant (and even desired) to have the value on the organic modification by the user. These cultural studies of modification are almost more interesting to me than the initial design, because they are more greatly influenced by culture.

I observed an example of this tension that perplexed me at Cahokia, where the mounds (especially Monk's Mound) had changed shape and purpose through the time of the Mississippian civilization in the region. The museum depicted the mounds primarily in one shape, yet there had been many other shapes and layouts. This was addressed through some exhibits, where the progression of development on the mound was charted and explained. As I recall, there wasn’t a particular value assigned to any one configuration, but I wonder if there were arguments or discussions relating to the relevance or importance of one configuration over another. This was also an issue in the Campbell House, since even though the brothers had not changed much since 1885, they must have made some modifications, and it erased a lot of their history to restore the house to it’s original condition, negating all the things that happened in between. This, however, was central to the mission of the Campbell House, where as at Cahokia, the mission was more focused on documenting the entire Mississippian culture, so it would have been incorrect to advocate for one configuration or another. Additional, the Cahokia mounds are still living objects—newly installed stairs, turf grass covers, plaques, and the erosion of weather and humans continually change their shape and their story.

For me, I find tension between the cultural relevance of objects as they were produced and their relevance as useful items that are representative of a culture and significant for certain purposes. As a designer, I want the designer of an object to be always correct, but at the same time, the user is in a way the designer, modifying the object to serve the exact function it needs to serve. The alien use of objects is as significant, if not more significant in their cultural relevance. The decisions that are made regarding objects are to me the central representations of culture and context, and can be read to explain many of these things, at any point in history, be it an object for yesterday or an object from the ancient past.

I look forward to taking my greater understanding of the reading of objects into my work creating and interpreting them. I feel I have a greater grasp on interacting with design decisions, especially pulling from a variety of fields and researching in a variety of contexts, and I look forward to all the objects that will populate the rest of my life.

Mid-Century Modern

I've been working on my CB project (seeing as how the presentation is in nine hours), and I've gotten to look through a lot of books about modern furniture, and I've realized that I love modern furniture. I love the lines, the materials, the form. It's so simple, and yet so elegant. I've always known that I've loved it, but spending several days pouring over books of modern furniture reaffirms that fact.

What this really brings me to in relation to objects is how I judge people who don't furnish their homes with furniture that I would approve of. I don't have many opportunities to interact with purposefully finished homes, mostly just college student apartments, where the furniture choices are more happenstance than purposeful. But, when I come across places that are furnished with highly ornate, almost Chippendale-styled pieces, I tend to perceive them as less progressive and less modern, regardless of the appropriateness of that particular style in context. I am very judgmental towards people with furniture that I find antiquated and unattractive—despite the fact that I recognize that it serves the same function.

The other thing was that I was reminded about design that solves problems—while I was reading through the book Herman Miller: The Purpose of Design, I got very excited about how HM approaches design problems, and the type of problems they could address with furniture. I was reminded of my table that I'm writing about, and how Heywood Wakefield was able to solve problems of availability, affordability and modularity by producing lines that were interchangeable, and being consistent in production quality and in other features such as color. Other issues, such as fitting tables into small spaces, and being able to be flexible in set up, were addressed with features like the strong drop-leafs on my table in particular.

Antiques Roadshow Object

What object would I take to the antiques roadshow?

Well, this is a difficult question for me because I don't really care to take any of my own personal objects to the antiques roadshow. The reasons why I value them are outside the context of knowing what an appraiser has to say about them, although I might be interested to learn the history of the object. But, all of my personal objects I value as a result of their design, functionality or sentimental value. As a result, I'm not interested in their monetary value, and may in fact be concerned that would distract from my actual attraction to them.

This is not the case, however, for objects that belong to my parents. If I had the chance, I would cart all of my dad's collections off to antiques roadshow, especially the beatles memorabilia. He has a very complete (and in someways unique) collection of everything beatles, and I would love to know what is and isn't valuable, and why. A lot of it is pure crap, but some of it is perfectly preserved and carefully handled memorabilia which could have some kind of serious value (especially in a beatles market).

My dad also collects a lot of crap, and I'm sure I will be very curious in 30 years to find out what the significance of all of the decorated glasses and the plastic figurines is to American culture and to the American antiques market. Unearthing the many treasures that belong to my parents will be exciting in the context of an antiques roadshow experience—I'm looking forward to finding out what treasures they've got squirreled away.

We Love Chunkeys

During my first visit to the Cahokia visitors center, I took a closer look at some of the many Chunkey stones displayed throughout the exhibit. Chunkeys appeared in the burial presentation of the chief, the display of the games, and in the products and materials section. I was initially attracted to them because of their smarties like shape—concave disks that looked like they were made of a heavy but smooth stone. In the products section, there was a chunkey sitting out that you could touch, and compare to other types of stoneware and creations.

The chunkey is about three inches in diameter, with a concave dimple on either side, colored either a gray or a pink, and nearly perfectly round. Although I couldn't hold one in my hand, just touch it as it was glued to a display board, I imagine it is quite hefty and just about hand sized. Chunkeys were made to be used as part of a game of strength and skill, where the players aimed spears at a rolled chunkey, and the one who came closest was considered the winner. The chunkey was meant to be held in one hand, and was meant to roll.

The stones were displayed in three cases. The first case, the chief's burial, did not have a label for the chunkeys. They were lined up with the other objects found in the tomb with the chief, next to the life-size recreation of his body on a bed of recreation seashells. There were a collection of chunkeys at the base near the feet. In the excavation photos, there was no evidence of the chunkeys, but the docent told us that they had, in fact, been found in the grave.

Around the corner from this display was the games and fun display, which described the game of chunkey stones, with pictures of people playing the game, as well as more stones and descriptions. This was the most informative display of the chunkeys, and also included clay children's chunkeys, which most likely weighed considerably less and were less valuable.

The final display was a products and materials display located across the exhibit floor from the other two displays. A chunkey stone was located outside the glass cases where it could be touched as part of the stone exhibit. The material was described, and other things made from that material were provided for comparison. This connected the chunkey with the context of its creation and the formal decisions made in its production.

The chunkeys were provided in both in context and in situ situations. The chiefs burials was based in situ—although the object was not directly where it was located, it was displayed with a life-sized model of the body and the funeral arrangements, depicting the exact situation. The other two displays, however, showed the stones in context, first within the context of the games of the Cahokia culture, and the second within the context of the production of objects in Cahokia culture.

The fact that there are so many Chunkeys on display, and that they are so prominent makes it seem like this game as a significant part of the Cahokia culture. This is in fact suggested in the displays, where it is discussed (and displayed) that people are often buried with their prized Chunkeys. The actual practice of the game is still pretty unclear, despite the explanation in the display, but the significance of the object itself is much more apparent because of the in depth evaluation in the three different exhibits.

Some of the objects displayed with the Chunkeys, such as the figures holding them, also suggest a cultural significance greater than awarded to most games. The amount of display space that is devoted to the Chunkey stone seems warranted by the amount of objects associated with the Chunkey that were found in excavation.

It mentions in one of the exhibits that Chunkeys are still used today as a game. It makes me wonder how the Chunkey stone came to be, which is not addressed at all anywhere in the displays. Since the displays focus on one particular point in history, it makes sense that they would not address anything else regarding the history of a non particular object—it quickly becomes too complex to address.

Mapping the LD Dameron Plot

LOGAN D. . Logan D. Dameron of S Louis died yesterday at Lexlnton, Mo., of heart disease. Last Fall he went to Santa Barbara, CaL, where he stopped until this Sprin, when he went to Lexlnocon, )Ao. For several years he had been suffering wih an affection of the heart, and hoped to renew his by travel }Jr. Dameron was widely known throughout Missouri and : tates, having for twenty years been publisher of the St, Louis CA'tstia Adeocle, the organ of the l[ Episcopal Church south of the St. Louis and conferences. He was an old Bt, Louis settler, and was connected with the Ltndell family by marriage. During his residence in S LoIs his toward the conferences of his Church was marked, and at his death his holdings in the Adcate became t-he ;7 of the S Louis and patronizing conferences. The news of his death was received with much sorrow by his friends, as it -as not known ha he was dangerously ill. A son and daughter Him when he died. 1. Dameron was in his sixty-fourth year.

For reading the cemetery monument, I looked at the family plot of L.D. Dameron, who lived from 1827 to 1891. I was first interested in the strange marble statue in the center of the plot, containing a highly degraded statue of a female figure, who has lost most of her face and hands. At first I thought this was the only headstone in the plot, but I quickly realized that there were quite a few more headstones, to the left, right and behind the plot. Each of the other headstones was exactly the same size, made of the same granite material, and facing forwards.

I decided to focus on the mapping and placement of the stones in the plot. To the left is an image showing the stones in relation to each other in terms of type. Red is young children, yellow is wives, green is miscellaneous things of unknown nature, purple is other family members and blue is Logan D. What is particularly interesting about this plot is that the small headstones seem to be replacements for previous stones, which makes sense since the marble stone to the right of the plot is so highly decayed it's hard to tell what it says. These stones are all so precisely uniform, but are actually produced over the period from roughly 1850 to 1919, so keeping exactly the same style seems unlikely. Another change is that Logan, Edward and Edward's wife all have slightly different notation on their headstones, stating the date of birth and of death, which leads me to conclude that all the stones were remade at some point in the granite material, and there was a transition later in history where the format of the stones was changed.

The orientation of the plot is roughly grouped into family lines by wife. Elizabeth, Logan's second wife, is located to the left of the center monument, while Mary, his first wife, is to the right. Cornelia, his third and final wife, was buried right next to him. Mary & Elizabeth's children are buried beside them, except Edward, the surviving son, who is buried behind Mary and next to Logan. It is unclear the relationship of Mary Dameron, countess, who is buried slightly off to the side. She would be most likely to be Elizabeth's daughter, but if she had become a countess, then it is not clear why she wasn't buried with her husbands family. Edward and Mary are likely the son and daughter that survived him after he died...unless he had another daughter who survived that married and is hence buried elsewhere.


If Logan were giving a tour of this plot, I imagine it would be very strange. He would have to say something like, this is the monument I had built to my wives...but I got the impression the monument was actually built to Mary, since one of her sons was inscribed on one side. Probably Logan realized shortly afterwards that he wouldn't be able to engrave all of his dead children on a four-sided monument, so he switched to burying them around. It was convenient that he only married three women, so they would all fit on the remaining sides monument. I imagine that he had Elizabeth's carved in after her death, and maybe Cornelia insisted her name join the other two on the central monument. He would probably go straight to Mary's branch of the tree, as his first wife, where she is buried with their deceased child. Then, he would likely visit Elizabeth and their many children...as he didn't have any children with Cornelia, I wonder if she would be given as much preference. He would probably explain the random object next to Mary's headstone as a piece of the earlier headstones that were replaced. He may also point out some close family members in the nearby vicinity and give an idea to what it was like to come here to visit all of his dead children...a truly sad and tragic visit for a man with so few surviving family members at the time of his death.

Heywood Wakefield Table Study Proposal

I intend to research a Heywood Wakefield drop leaf table that I inherited from my grandparents. The table currently resides in my parents’ living room in Ann Arbor, MI, but I hope it will be joining me soon in St. Louis.

My grandparents most likely purchased the table in the early 1950’s, probably around the time that they moved into the house in Oak Park, IL. Prior to 1977, I think that it lived in my grandparent’s bedroom on the second story of the house, against the wall with the windows between their desks. My uncles seem to remember it being covered with papers from my grandfather’s work as a psychotherapist and my grandmother’s administration of the Plum Grove Nursing Home. The way we determined the location was by a process of elimination from my uncle’s memories.

After 1977, the table was moved to my grandmother’s office further down the hall toward the back of the house. Several factors precipitated this move—the purchase of a new television preempting all the other furniture, and the exodus of my youngest uncle from the house, opening up more bedrooms for two studies, a meditation room, a fitness and family room, an accountant’s office and a guest bedroom.

It is unclear if the table remained here for the rest of it’s tenure at 417, but based on the damage it had sustained by the time I got it, I assume it must have spent some time in a wet or corrosive environment such as the attic or basement.

In 1997, when my grandparents moved to Ann Arbor, the table was one of the furniture items that were moved to Michigan. This is particularly curious because most of the furniture that was “salvaged” from their home was fine pieces of antiques, sentimental objects or extremely practical pieces. Although the table is extremely practical, it must have already been damaged at the time of the move, yet it was packed up and then promptly relegated to the dank basement storage room for use as the present wrapping table (a function it is perfectly suited for) until 2002 when the contents of the house were distributed and I claimed the table, assuming I could refinish it myself.

It sat in storage for three years, until 2005 when my parents too me to The Future Antiques on South Grand. I noticed a strikingly similar table in a corner with a $5oo price tag attached. I was surprised, and asked the owner. I learned a lot more about the Heywood Wakefield brand. Since Hey Wake items require special refinishing, I was especially glad I had not attempted to do this myself. As it turned out, one of the major refinishers was located in Michigan, so I had my table taken out and refinished at Springdale Modern furnishings. In its new, gleaming state, it now stands under the window in my parents living room, covered with lace doilies and art books, both leaves dropped.

My table is a Hey Wake wheat-toned maple table. Although I don’t know its production year or specific history, I have found most of the information about the Hey Wake line in a collector’s guide to the line. The particular table I own is one of the least fancy of all their dining room tables, and was meant to be paired with their dining sets including modern chairs and sideboards. My grandparents, using it in offices rather than dining rooms, had it in an alien, although completely functional situation. It would have hardly sufficed in the Kramer dining room, with 6 kids!

This table, like most Hey Wake pieces, is now collectible items, highly coveted by retro-modern furniture enthusiasts, like myself. Many stores, including TFA and Springdale, specialize in these types of pieces, selling to a crowd of adoring fans.

The table is very beautifully designed with the smooth wood shapes and delicate finish. Each leg glides out smoothly to support the leaf, stopping and resting on the wood nubbins that mark the spot for perfect support. I’m interested in observing the function and form of the Hey Wake pieces in generally, and in particular how the design of this table is functional in the purposes it serves. I am also hoping to explore my family’s relationship to objects, and the culture of fanatic collectors surrounding Hey Wake furniture.

I have already consulted with my family, our family photos and our other documentary evidence, primarily to no avail. I have also consulted a collectors gu9de to Hey Wake furniture, and plan on looking at other texts on retro-modern furniture. I also plan on visiting the TFA store and show room, and speaking with the owners about their experiences with Hey Wake, and this table. I am also considering calling Springdale, since they are a Hey Wake specialty store.

The end results I would like to get out of this are a narrative about the table from two perspectives—that of the collector, and that of my family. I’d also like to produce some drawings, especially of other similar Hey Wake items and comparable retro-modern pieces, and using these studies to compare directly to my table.

Object Relationships in Spoils

Identify a passage in the Spoils of Poynton in which some subject-object relationship is being described with respect to a major character. Do a close reading of this passage in which you look at what is revealed about the character. What does the depiction of the object -- its qualities, the encounter with or perception of it, the rituals associated with it -- tell us about the character and/or their cultural perspectives?

The smutty maid came in with tea-things, and Fleda, moving several objects, eagerly accepted the diversion of arranging a place for them on one of the tables. […] In spite of ordering tea she had not invited him to sit down; she herself made a point of standing. He hovered by the window that looked into Raphael Road; she kept at the other side of the room; the stunted slavey, gazing wide-eyed at the beautiful gentleman and either stupidly or cunningly bringing but one thing at a time, came and went between the tea-tray and the open door.
[…]
She busied herself with the tea and, to extend the occupation, cleared the table still more, spreading out the coarse cups and saucers and the vulgar little plates. She was aware she produced more confusion than symmetry, but she was also aware she was violently nervous. Owen tried to help her with something: this made indeed for disorder.

In chapter 14, Owen approaches Fleda at her father’s home in the city. Fleda is nervous about his presence in her territory and especially about her being alone with him. When the maid brings in the tea, Fleda moves the objects for the sake of distraction. She continued to make herself busy during the entirety of their conversation, until much closer to Owen’s confession of love. The maid also interacts with the objects, bringing them in one at a time for tea from the kitchen.

The objects she plays with in this scene, part of her father’s tea set, are sexualized by their adjectives—they are originally brought forth by the “smutty maid” and are described as coarse and vulgar. They act as a stand in for the physical interaction which Fleda restrains herself from with Owen. As anyone would when very nervous, Fleda fidgets with the objects. The difference here is that the objects take on a greater meaning as stand-ins for telling Owen the truth as he demands.

A particularly sexualized description of these objects appears in the second portion of the passage: “…spreading out the coarse cups and saucers and the vulgar little plates.” When read aloud, this passage carries the rhythm of an erotica text, but is about dining implements. The tension in this scene between Fleda and Owen is expounded by the interaction with these objects, particularly the word choice of “spread”, “coarse” and “vulgar.”

The fact that the maid is bringing these objects out one at a time is also prolonging the interaction between Fleda and the objects, and giving Owen more of an opportunity to become involved. The “smutty maid” becomes a catalyst for their interaction on a different level, as they both move the objects around to set them.

Owen’s attempt to help Fleda with setting up the objects in a less than symmetrical tea pattern is also representative of their relationship. As Owen bumbles around to help out, he just manages to muss things up to a greater extend for Fleda, increasing her level of nervousness. This happens between them when Owen intends to help things by confessing his love, but instead he manages to make everything messier when he cannot stand up for himself against Mona.

The conservative, traditional ritual associated with tea in Britain also helps to mirror the all-but prude attitude of Fleda when it comes to Owen and marriage. She refuses to buck decency tradition and cross any appropriate boundaries, which Mrs. Gereth is furious about and eventually costs Fleda dearly—Owen. The objects being haphazard and not symmetrical could possibly represent how Fleda feels about the method she’s pursuing with Owen now—contrary to tradition, and haphazard.

Mini-Cultural Biography of The Campbell Sideboard

Despite being relegated to the side of the room by the virtue of its name alone, the Campbell sideboard is really one of the focal points of the dining room. It’s impressive size and carvings are opulent and detailed beyond any of the other furniture in the room (although it all shares similar characteristics of renaissance revival furniture with curves and carvings). The 1885 photos of the room show it set up for two very different events—a formal dinner and for what seems to be a regular afternoon, with no settings on the table. In both photos, the sideboard is a huge presence, regardless of if it is nearly smothered by the objects cluttering it’s marble top or if it is delicately graced by only a handful of practical implements.

The sideboard, which was wildly popular in Europe in the mid-1800’s following the Great Exhibition of 1851, experienced an explosion of popularity as a result of the display of the Parisian Henri Fourdinois’s lavishly carved wood sideboard. A veritable sideboard mania swept Britain, and came across the ocean and influenced Mrs. Campbell to purchase a sideboard, most likely in Philadelphia, before her move to St. Louis. She likely purchased the furniture in the late summer of 1855 with the rest of the dining room furniture, although it varies slightly in wood and detailing than the furniture in the rest of the room. Like most other sideboards of this time, it was likely made by a French or German immigrant. It bears striking resemblance to a sideboard made by Alexander Roux on display at the Met in New York, which is a derivation of a sideboard that he had on display at the Crystal Palace during the 1851 Exposition. The detail carvings of land and water game on the cabinet doors are nearly identical.

It is an impressive furniture object, filling the space in the east end of the current dining room in the Campbell House Museum against the windows, covering the shutters overlooking the side yard. It is made from a variety of woods, including oak, maple, poplar, and tulip, and other woods, with a marble top and a mirror in the back. As was fashionable in the Victorian era, the carvings depict game and fruit, surrounded by detailing of curves and swirls.

Standing nearly 10 feet high at the peak of the deer’s antlers, the sideboard is two pieces—a lower cabinet consisting of a marble counter sitting atop four cabinet shelves and four drawers, of which the two on either side are curved and open to the side. Each door is on a pin hinge, and each cabinet contains two shelves. The doors are several pieces of wood, although it is notable that the curved portion of the outside doors is a single piece of wood. A carved detail of land game is affixed on the center left cabinet door, and of water game on the center right door. There are no handles for these cabinets, although each is equipped for the installation of a lock. The drawers have a carving detail at each of the locks, and a rounded shape in wood around each of the areas. The furthest left door has a permanent key in the lock, and the other drawers are equipped for the locks, although they don’t seem to have functional ones installed. This whole unit sits directly on the floor, without any legs or space underneath.

Above the drawers and cabinets is the marble top, which is a light gray color and shaped to match the cabinets below. It has a beveled edge, sloping downward. The thickness of the marble is about one inch. Above the marble extends the mirror backboard, which appears to be attached to the back of the cabinet section by a long board. The large mirror sits directly in the middle of the unit, with curving, carved wood up either side, accented by small shelves about one-third of the way up the unit. These shelves are mostly circular, and sit on a carved curl of leaves and berries. The details in the carving include fruit, nuts, figs, grapes and leaves. At the very top and center is the bust of a deer, including antlers. There are also curls in the corner of the mirror.

The sideboard is situated immediately to the left as one enters the dining room from the front of the house. Today, it’s flanked by two of the forty-eight chairs on the first floor. In the historical pictures, it is either flanked by chairs (in the casual picture) or by two small serving tables (in the formal photo), which back up to the windows on either side. The sideboard blocks the shutters of the southern windows, preventing them from being opened. It is about a foot too wide on either side to allow access. It sits directly across from the dining room table and from the large mirror above the fireplace. It’s also in the path of access from the butler’s pantry to the dining room table. The deer bust is directly aligned with the painting on the ceiling—the details match up on the portion of the room where the sideboard resides, but are slightly out of line closer to the dining room table (although the sideboard center lines up with the gasolier center, which looks to be approximately the center of the room).

There are not really any other places in the room for the sideboard to be located—limited by its size and the architecture of the space, there was no option but to block these windows and set it slightly off in the alcove. On both the North and the South walls, doors cover most of the space. On the West wall, a fireplace fills most of the area. If the sideboard were placed next to the fireplace, it may provide more open space in the alcove portion of the room, but unfortunately it would not allow for easy access to the serving implements for the servants. This location also gives the sideboard a greater power than anywhere else in the room—having it’s own alcove makes it very important in relation to the rest of the furniture.

The access to the sideboard was most likely crucial during dining extravaganzas in the dining room. In the picture of the formal dining setting, there are 15 pouring vessels located on the sideboard, which I have sketched. These vessels likely contained wine, coffee, water, liquors, sauces, gravies and other additions to the meal. In the casual photo of the room, there are not nearly as many pouring vessels, but at least three are still visible on the sideboard. Unlike our modern dining experience, the servants would have had to come in and pour all of these things for the dinner guests, so they would have needed easy access to them throughout the meal.

Although this is how the use of the sideboard is illustrated in the Campbell’s history, other sideboards were used for serving game, meats, or wines. The cabinets below were likely used for storage of china or serving accessories, and would not have been accessed during the meal, and probably not opened in the presence of the family. The precedent for sideboards was less function than display of the intricate carvings and details, although this particular sideboard is a toned down, functional version which was most likely more suiting to the practical frontier of St. Louis.

The detailed carving of game and fruit was popular for sideboards and dining furniture of the Victorian era, serving as a connection and a reminder of the natural elements of food. The sideboard is a very masculine piece of furniture, representing the hunt and the connections to nature. This is fittingly appropriate for Robert Campbell with his associations to the Wild West through his work and travels. The Campbell’s probably didn’t think about the direct references to hunting and death in their everyday use of this object, since it was such a popular motif for dining rooms during this era. They likely just considered it to be another decorative piece in their set. I reacted negatively to the images of dead animals; especially if they are directly next to my dinner table, but this exhibit of sensual violence and hunt was so common and even popular, it probably didn’t faze them.

Sideboards were literal altars of abundance, representing the fruit and fowl of God to the Victorians, who reveled in the splendor of their resources. Like altars of churches, the symmetry, details and opulence of sideboards is a center of worship in the elaborate, ceremonial meals that took place in the Campbell house, some of which lasted for over three hours.

The sideboard embodies many traditions and cultural influences of the Victorian era, from the importance of dining to the masculine basis for the hunt. It serves an important function as a serving piece of furniture, but is also less functional than it is representative of the power and influence in the Campbell House. The sideboard still maintains its importance in the Campbell House museum as a relic of the renaissance revival and the Victorian age.

Irony of the Spoils of Poynton

After finishing the Spoils of Poynton, I was disappointed in the simple ironic twist that James put on the ending of the book. Although I was pleased that he followed through with an unhappy ending that illustrated Owen’s simplistic character and followed through on the expectations I had for Owen, it was frustrating that Felda would be so crushed in such a ridiculously ironic way—that Poynton would burn just as she was arriving there to claim her prize (which I assume was the Maltese Cross, since that seemed to be her favorite object). Perhaps it served as a further symbol for the end of her relationship with Owen, but it seemed to be boiled down further than I expected.

I was also confused about Mrs. Gereth’s logic in sending all the objects back so quickly. As I thought before, for a woman so observant she certainly missed the simplicity of her son in expecting that things would go correctly. She did assume that Felda would have taken care of everything, and this seemed to be a misjudgment on her part as well, as miss judging Felda as someone who makes timely and slightly aggressive decisions, which she certainly does not. It makes Owen’s betrayal even more of a betrayal of the objects, however, as it seems totally apparent that he should have known the objects were intended for Felda and not for Mona.

Considering the character that Owen seems to display towards Felda in their last tryst, I find it totally unlikely that he would never contact her again—especially after the objects are returned…obviously he does eventually, but it takes only a shred of decency to inform her that he is going to marry Mona (or perhaps already has). The whole thing was very confusing.

In terms of the objects, their being returned freed Mrs. G from their power, letting her free to go travel and live a very different life without being attached to them. But for Felda, she wasn’t free until they burned to the ground with Poynton. In the text, she was practically chomping at the bit to get her hands on her one prize object that she could select. This greatest irony was just one more sad story in Felda’s relatively depressing life, unfortunately.

Campbell House Visit

I was pretty excited about the field trip to the Campbell House—the week before, I had walked by it and peered into the garden, and I had spent some time this summer talking to someone I know who had volunteered for them doing research and historical preservation. She was pretty excited about, so between that and my excessive compulsions about St. Louis history, I was pretty enthusiastic, and the visit paid off. The Campbells owned an impressive collection of things—things that weren’t all necessarily to my taste, but were a fascinating reflection on their social standing and the importance of certain styles and objects to the family.

One of the most striking elements of the house was the huge contrast between different rooms—for example, the opulent, overdone style of the parlor was a huge contrast to the dark and subdued (yet also overdone) style of the morning room. The stylistic elements that tie the whole house together seemed kind of haphazard, and this made me wonder if this was a symptom of preservation or if the Campbell’s style was actually kind of haphazard.

An object category that also perplexed me was the massive number of self-portraits, paintings and even mirrors throughout the house. Although the mirrors served a practical purpose of extending the amount of light in a room and making rooms seem bigger, there is an element of self-indulgence in having that many reflective surfaces on every wall. The Campbells must have spent a considerable amount of time looking at themselves, either in the form of portraits or mirrors. It especially weirded me out that Mrs. C had a huge portrait of herself in the parlor as the central focus—I wonder what it would be like to sit in a room with a giant picture of yourself all the time and entertain guests. I think it would freak me out.

The difference between the servants quarters and objects and the Campbell’s portion of the house was also fascinating—especially that almost none of those objects were preserved since they weren’t considered useful. Although the servants made up the majority of the household, and contributed a great deal to the history of the house, their objects are nearly entirely anonymous. Since there were so many objects missing, it also seemed like that portion of the museum was much more structured in a false way than the rooms that were precisely preserved as shown in the photographs. I was curious about how these objects would have been when the servants were actually using them—certainly not so neat and put on shelves! I imagine there must have been stacks of dirty dishes and a variety of objects strewn around the kitchen without any concern for their placement. I wonder if the butler’s pantry was also as neat as it was when we saw it—it seemed like a difficult arrangement for using those objects, but a good one for displaying them (especially the chariot napkin ring).

The photographs as the basis for the museums renovation was also interesting since it was so unclear what the purpose of the photographs was—were they taken for documentation, for fun, or for something else? Were the rooms especially arranged for those photographs, and if so, why? The way that the colors were determined from the photographs and the paint sampling was very interesting as well—science plays such a big part in historical restoration.

My favorite pieces in the house were actually pieces that did not belong to the Campbells at all, but rather the furniture in Mrs. Kyle’s room. The dark wood and simple lines were very appealing to me, especially over the ornate decoration and coloring of the rest of the Campbell’s house. I also particularly liked the banister in the front stair, which was in a similar, also older style. I imagine that Mrs. Kyle’s room must have been really dark and oppressive when she lived in it, if the wallpaper was darker than it is currently. It must have been horrible in there with the shades shut!

I enjoyed the Campbell house museum because it provided such a cohesive glimpse into the lives of these objects. Unlike our visit to SLAM, the objects were more or less close to in situ (or as close as their going to get), and I had a much better idea of how they were used and appreciated. At SLAM, there were several pieces that I remember remarking seemed rather modern in relation to the year that they were made. Some similar pieces appeared in the Campbell’s house—shapes, forms and patterns that reflect a more modern taste, such as the ceiling detail in the parlor or some of the small detail pieces upstairs. Kate remarked on this too, and this reminded me that in reality everything old just becomes new again, and that very few new styles or forms are invented, they’re just recombined in new ways to create more fitting forms and functions.

The Spoils of Poynton

James’ Spoils of Poynton offers strange descriptions of the objects that Mrs. Gereth lusts for. The narrator, mostly following Felda’s perspective, narrates the objects in such a loving and lustful way that it’s hard to determine where the line is drawn between people and objects. For example, when describing the transition of the objects from Poynton to Ricks, Felda saw: “She knew them each by every inch of their surface and every charm of their character—knew them by the personal name their distinctive sign or story had given them; and a second time she felt how, against her intention, this uttered knowledge struck her hostess as so much free approval.” Felda’s thoughts on the objects reminds me of the thoughts on someone one loves—knowing every inch and charm, having pet names for them, and knowing all of their stories. Throughout the book, Felda and Mrs. Gereth seem to both represent this distinctive attachment to their objects.

To me, the collecting mania that Mrs. Gereth has developed is excessive. Although Owen is dull and boring, Mrs. Gereth has replaced her love for her child with her love for objects. This is understandable, seeing how Owen has chosen Mona (who seems very beastly) over his mother and her objects, but the level of devotion that Mrs. Gereth shows over the objects (rescuing them, caring for them, protecting them) over what she does to protect her son from what seems to be the most terrible fate of Mona. Her son, on the other hand, sees the objects in a more realistic sense, as a barrier between himself and his mother. It is easy to sympathize with Owen because he seems more rational about the fate of the objects: rather than taking them as the end of the world, he seems to appreciate them for their form, but doesn't accept that they are everything in life.

Felda's relationship with the objects is even more complex than the other characters. Despite appreciating them for their form, beauty and material as Mrs. Gereth does, she is not so attached to them that she approves of Mrs. Gereth's taking all the objects. She sees the balance in the human interaction between the objects. What is confusing is that Mrs. Gereth takes a certain pride in identifying Felda's particular appreciation for the collection, and yet Felda does not seem to believe that Mrs. Gereth should leave the collection intact and rather that she should have selected specific objects to save. This misjudgment on Mrs. Gereth's part is a fatal flaw, and what eventually seems to cost her the betrayal of Felda's intentions and support of her. It is hard to imagine a character that is so attentive to Felda's emotions and devotions would miss the fact that Felda has other loyalties greater than the collection.

On the other hand, it is difficult to interpret from the text how much Felda is disgusted by Owen and only attracted to his possession of the objects rather than he himself. Maybe the real point here is that she is internally attracted to him based on his possession of the treasures she values so highly, even if she does not realize it herself.

I can't seem to think of myself in a similar situation, where I wanted a collection of objects badly enough to forsake family relationships and to essentially steal them away to my own home for personal safe keeping. Mrs. Gereth is certainly an extreme case of collector’s mania. Her being alone and not having anyone to share with other than Felda has driven her to this state where she feels possessed to possess all the objects...really, quite terrifying since they serve no purpose for her except contentment in owning them, as she can't even appreciate all of them herself anyway.

Group Project Reflection

2/20/08
Due to the differences in our disciplines, we worked together at nearly every step of the process in this project, since Annemarie and myself had almost no understanding of how Robyn’s disciplines connected to ours and to design as a whole. We each brought a different element of design to the table, however. I was able to contribute specifics about the progression of product design and examples about how product designers and designers in general have interacted with objects. I found that I especially brought questions about interacting with objects, such as “why was this choice made?,” or “what choice would I have made?”

Annemarie was able to bring the slightly larger picture of the context of these objects within the physical and cultural world. As an architect, she had a greater ability to see the long-term context of an object outside of its immediate interactions and it’s purpose. Since the historic field of architecture creates buildings for permanence, and usually for one specific situation, this is a greater concern for architects than it is for product designers. Product designers consider the context of the object en masse and may miss some of the specifics, especially about how the object interacts with different settings, as it is impossible to design for every setting in which an object can be used.

Robyn brought an entirely different perspective that was able to illuminate the basic principle of describing and understanding objects—designers can break objects down into pieces and characteristics, taking these as definitions of the object outside of its social, cultural or historical context. Robyn was able to highlight that the characteristics of an object are in fact design choices that are specific to the object and require attention individually and in the context of the whole object. A series of these choices makes up a complete object.

We really struggled with limiting our presentation, since we were overwhelmed by the amount of interaction that we have with objects and how much they are a part of our whole psyche and experience. Since objects are everything, what could we possibly talk about other than objects? There were so many things that we also left out and weren’t even able to discuss because the presentation too short. After all, we’ve been trained for years on how to understand and evaluate objects in this way. There was no way we were going to be able to boil it down to 12 minutes and make it understandable.

Designer's Approach to Objects

2/20/08

It’s really hard to write about product design’s approach to objects, because it’s so all encompassing that it’s nearly impossible to break it down into just a few fundamental concepts. The other difficulty with breaking this down to the fundamentals is that I can’t remember that long ago when I didn’t think this way. I’ve been seeing designed objects for most of my life, but consciously since I was in 5th grade. Before that, I don’t even remember interacting with objects on an object level, although I suppose I’ve always be interested in the design of objects have always thought in the way designers think.

I’ve also done extensive amounts of reading about design and how designers think, so finding research material and scholarly articles was not much of a challenge. After all, I listen to podcasts about design, read blogs about design and have a mini-design library sitting next to my bed. It was just a matter of picking and choosing the most applicable examples to boil down to get to the heart of design and the way designers think about objects.

Working on this project with Annemarie and Robyn was especially interesting because although I have a pretty good understanding of how architecture interacts with objects, I have absolutely no understanding of computer science and it’s interactions with objects. As far as I’m concerned, computer science makes the whole field of objects unreal. It was very interesting for me to see Robyn draw the parallels between my physical and visual perception of objects to her virtual and element-based object construction. The way that Robyn broke objects down into their characteristics was reminiscent of the way that I perceive objects, but for some reason obscured much of my understanding of the object.

I really realized how little I think about thinking about objects. It is entirely second nature to me to think about how objects are made and what kinds of choices were made to get to that design of an object. It also rarely occurs to me that other people don’t think that way all the time—maybe because my closest object communicators also think about objects in exactly the same way.

The other thing that I found striking was the requirement of being able to see or visualize or experience the object in some way. For designers, invisible objects mean nothing. We must be able to interact with them and appreciate the experience of the object before it becomes real to us. I think that it’s different in other disciplines (I suppose I’ll find out in the next week), but I think that sometimes objects can be evaluated solely based on their cultural influence or impact, which is something that an object need not be present for to impact.

The most difficult part about this project is also what I love most about design—design is everything. The quote that we opened with from Pezzetta really sums up this sentiment. Everything is designed, and as a result, design is everything. At the same time, design is really nothing. Design alone can’t solve the worlds problems, and design is not human and can’t give you a hug. But, design combines every discipline with creativity and technology, and considers as many angles as is popular or possible in the context of the solution. Design ends up being a never-ending process.

What I’m most interested in finding out from our presentation is if our class will grasp what we’re saying about the way we look at objects. This concept is so basic and fundamental to us we can’t separate it from our existence or our object experience. We spent some time wishing that we had been randomly assigned someone who didn’t have a determined field so we could run these concepts by them.

This experience left me realizing that there is still so much about the context of design itself that I know little about. I’m taking an independent study in writing this semester focusing on writing about design, and during the research for this project I discovered about 10 more sources that I had not yet considered evaluating. This only added to my being overwhelmed. There is a limitless amount of information covering this topic, and it doesn’t seem possible to ever fully synthesis this information.

One thing that I looked at in the research that has significantly influenced my thinking for the last few days is the book Thoughtless Acts by Fulton and IDEO. Focusing mostly on how we modify our environments (with or without products) to make them more livable, the book is a study in self-made design—the design that we thoughtlessly participate in everyday. I’ve spent even more time than usual evaluating this incidental design and thinking about how I modify my own personal objects to make them more functional for my purposes. For example, I clip my keys on to my bag’s back clip, so they’re accessible right in front of me for when I get off my bike and need to lock it. This is certainly not the intention of the back clip, but it means that I will always know where my keys are, AND have access to my pepper spray easily in any situation.

This project was interesting for me in the context of evaluating products and design from someone else’s perspective, something that I haven’t tried to do for a long time. I think this will help to inform my writing and communication about objects to remind me that there is little understanding about the way that designers even think about objects to begin with—then I can set my readers on an equal playing field with me in talking about objects.

Dear Elizabeth

2/17/08

Dear Elizabeth:

I enjoyed your letter about objects and collections. It's interesting to hear another person's perspectives on what I do. Your list was pretty good, many of the other collections are sub-categories of the ones you mentioned or collections that haven't been on display.

My collection tendency started pretty early. I use to pick stuff out of the garbage on our block on Kenilworth in grade school. I had a space in the back of the house that was created when the kitchen was remodeled and they closed off the back door and the stairs that went into the kitchen from the basement. I use to collect my objects there which was a cool place because things could be arranged on stairs. The only specific thing I remember was a complete set of the 1910 Encyclopedia Britannica that someone across the street threw out.

I think my first conscious collecting was in 1968 (junior year in high school) when I saved a newspaper article on the Beatles White Album which was the beginning of many newspaper articles, magazines and books on the Beatles that obviously expanded to include anything Beatles and eventually, anything musical.

Uncle Dan made an interesting comment once when he said that he didn't feel he needed to collect things as long as he knew someone else was collecting them. One of the things behind collecting for me has been "having to have" which gets stronger when I see something I'd like to have, don't get it and then later wanting it but not being able to get it. There's a small drinking glass I saw on a trip that had musicians on it in red that I wanted but it was $20. Usually these glasses sell for $4 – 5. So, I didn't get it – and still think about it. I bought a set of Beatle postcards for $125 to not have that happen.

So, all of this seems to make me sound very materialistic and very attached to my objects and collections, if not having my identity wrapped up in them. I, however, don't think this is true. It is true that I derive great pleasure and satisfaction from these things. When the brothers are working in the basement, I'll pull out a book or magazine I haven't looked at for a while and will marvel and the pictures or stories in it. I love seeing the things I have and fantasize of lighted glass cabinets to display my things. There is also great satisfaction in having a complete collection of something (while I was collecting Simpson's comics, I had every single issue of every variations they released except on Treehouse of Horror issue).

However, when I comes down to it, there is only one object that means the most to me and that is my Martin guitar. Everything else could go and will go. I've spent my adult life more and more clearly defining my Self as the life force that flows through me and the consciousness that can perceive myself and the world, so these objects are no more me than you are me.

I also see a parallel between collecting and archiving. I think I archive because my memory is quite selective and when I recall past events I tend to generalize to the point of losing details which results in losing the richness and meaning of the experience. One of the things I marvel at Charley about is his ability to tell a story with such detail that it's like you are reliving it with him. Without this ability, I collect references to the past in dates, photos, videos, recordings, papers, calendars, notes, folders and artifacts, so I can partially recapture what happened.

I'm sure that on a psychological/emotional level that collecting and archiving has served to calm anxiety, fear and insecurity just as my challenges with eating have done. As you talked about, collecting gives me control over something which produces a sense of control even if it's an illusion.

One of the other questions that has come up for me around collecting and archiving has been purpose. What's the purpose? I think I've addressed some of this already but I think it's just a way to be. I feel I could be a different way, make other choices but this way suits me. I think about postcard collecting and how it gives me a curious focus for searching when I'm traveling, delight when I find some that I don't have (although more often these days I think I don't have them when I do. See memory problems above) and a relatively cheap way to bring something home. Also, as many have said, I'm one of the easiest people to buy gifts for.

As far as the pineapple and pirates, I was glad that you spoke up about stopping those progressions. It's just a simplistic way to think of someone which can make gift giving easier. I don't think I ever confused you with the objects but I can understand how it may have been confusing for you.

Thanks for giving me a chance to think and write about these aspects of my life.

Love,
Dad

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Like I told you on the phone the other day, we’ve been talking a lot about collections in my objects class. Of course, I end up giggling because I think about these conversations in the context of the penultimate collector in my life—you. I’ve made a partial list of your collections that I could recall off the top of my head in class:
• Music postcards
• Tacky 60’s postcards
• Tacky record sleeves
• Mini pianos
• Figures with instruments
• Mcdonalds toys (defunct?)
• Star wars ship figures
• Old lego ships
• Star trek figures
• Matchbox cards
• Drummer figures
• Beatles memorabilia
• Beatles books, videos, etc
• Michael Jackson music
• David Roth songs
• Stamps
• Coins
• Pipes
• Fender hats
• Hawaiian shirts
• Shot glasses
• Interesting glasses
• Bottle openers
• Guitars
• Things with unknown uses
• Family history
• Rutles things
• JBB songs
• Own songs
• Guitar picks
And this is just a partial list. You have more collections than I can even begin to comprehend. For example, what is your collection of one!? I don’t even know what object you could be talking about. Maybe it’s the piano or something.

Before this class, I had never really thought about how my relationship to objects is so dependent on your relationship to them. After all, what kid grows up in a house with collections of everything, in custom boxes or on custom shelves, out on display.

I don’t fully understand why you’re driven (or drawn) to collecting in the way that you do, but I have some reflections on how this has changed my interactions with objects, and how it has driven me to be more of the way that I am about objects.

Your collections are a lot about categories—categories that primarily reflect your interests, but also just reflect things that you think are cool, like neat glasses, the Simpsons and legos. A lot of your collections are about music, because that is what you first and foremost love.

We’ve talked in class about collections as a way of orienting ourselves in the world of stuff—and also about ways to have control over the stuff around us. Your collections are the ultimate control. They are all so well organized, and you know a lot of details about most of them (if not all). Many of your collections are also intended to inform you even more about your other collections, like your collection of books about guitars. That certainly grounds you in relationship to your collection of guitars.

I’ve ended up with a confused relationship about objects. Obviously, they are all that I think about, but at the same time there are many reasons ways in which I want to (and sometimes do) reject them to their core, as representations of our consumption. I love beautiful objects in form and in function. I am most interested in collecting things which serve a purpose.

When I was younger, my collections mirrored yours in a much more obvious way. My collections of 3” horses, of dollhouse furniture (including full sets of hand-made doll dishes), of lego castles, of playmobiles, of little figurines and whatever else I collected. Now, I’ve reduced my collections in a very different way—to things that are practical and useful in my life. I have a collection of clothes (include of hooded sweatshirts and of blazers), a collection of pyrex orange daisy bowls & serving dishes, a collection of mod salt and pepper shakers, and of course my collection of Heywood Wakefield furniture. I am looking for beauty and function, which is an exact reflection of what I look for in my design work as well. I don’t think I have the self awareness at this point in my life to determine how this type of collecting reflects on how I feel about myself in relation to this stuff—these are things that surround me, but I’m not sure they define me.

That’s another point. You and Mom have both been influential in selecting (or forcing?) things that define me…and I have likewise ended up defining you in the manner of things. Like that poster Julia made when she was little of “Things my Mommy likes”, part of your persona is defined by your love of Beatles things, and by your collection of musical figurines. And you’ve defined my persona partially by my collection of pineapples and pirates, which in reality is not a collection at all but an accumulation of objects presented to me by other people that ended up becoming a collection representing the interpretations of the people around me. I don’t see these things representing me that much—the pineapples, after all, started as joke—but they have come to define me by the collections that you’ve helped to create around me.

One particular thing we’ve been talking about in class is the way that collections become absorbed into museums. While you’re in the process of collection Kramer family history for the Kramer family museum, you’re also creating your own museum—a very particular documentation of the strange collection of popular culture and artifacts that appeal to you. I’m always impressed with your interests and with the care you take to preserve them—it will be quite the site for an archeologist to unearth years in the future.

Thanks for all your objects. I’ll write to you again about them as we keep going with this class.

Love,

Elizabeth