The Splayd

Ok, I've never personally seen or used this object, but I'm fascinated by the graphic and the analysis of the Splayd, and the concept that one utensil could serve all these purposes. There are two issues here:

1) What are the advantages of reducing our utensils down to one? Is this a gimick, or is it really useful and practical?

2) The idea of using this diagram as a model for showing the overlap between other like but dissimilar designs (for example, my telephone and my iPod) could create other sweet 'object mash-ups' (the iPhone, in fact, if I use my previous example). I like that idea of simplification.

Link to original post from the ragbag.

Moleskines

I just recently picked up two new Moleskines for my collection. Moleskines are kind of the ultimate artsy-fartsy accessory. I have quite a few of them, and I love them for more than the status symbol that they convey as an object. They are beautifully designed notebooks, and speak to a certain aesthetic, which I happen to hold quite dear.

Simple, small, practical and pleasing to the touch. My preferred versions are the larger side-opening note pads, small sketch books and the hardcover day planner (although I don't use it for day planning, because it doesn't quite fulfill my needs on that). I'm going to focus here on the side-opening note pad, because it's the one that I've managed to complete the most of (I think I'm up to 4 now in the last 2 years).

Some features I like: the texture of the paper, the fact that the binding opens all the way up to allow you to cover every square inch of the paper (and to make full layouts if you so desire), the pocket in the back, the last few pages with perforations so you can rip them out if you need to give a phone number or a open or a sketch, the elastic band which stretches just enough to fit a pen inside, and the fact that the notebook itself is just about the length of a pen, so you're not adding any extra space by hooking your pen in that way.

What don't I like about these Moleskines? Not much. Basically the same things I dislike about all other forms of handwritten notebooks: it's hard to write when you're in the first pages because your wrist raises off the table, the slipperiness of certain inks and the blotting through for some types of inks on the reporter paper, the fact that I never have anything of any value to write about. Otherwise, what is there to complain about? It's simple, well thought-out and customizable—the way I think most consumer objects should be.

Speaking of customizable, I use the day planner as a daily journal: two sentences each day about my reflections, and a sentence of reflection. In the opposite page, I reflect on the whole week with some terse statements and feelings about what I've experienced. This leaves a lot of stuff I haven't figured out how to use in the planner: personal data, address book, travel planning. I have started using the yearly planner to write in the big events of the year, so I can either plan in advance or document them in just one word. It's a work in progress.

Update on the Tropicana box

They had not sold out of these boxes at one of my grocery stores, and I'm now the proud owner of one of those neat little orange caps. Now if only I had the proper collection place to display such things.

The Worst Shower on the Planet

How would I define worst? I actually had a pretty nice shower, once it was a shower and not a bath. Worst would mean absolutely least intuitive with the least clues possible for my success at showering. All I wanted was to take a stupid shower.

I like to think I'm pretty good at figuring things out. I spend a lot of time thinking about design, I'm frequently called to fix broken things, and I have a damn degree in mechanical engineering. None of those things helped me make this shower work. I spent about 20 minutes closely examining all the details of every part of the shower, with absolutely no success. I called my mother, who thought this whole predicament was (understandably) hysterical. I finally caved and woke Ben up to ask him how the hell this thing works.




Seriously. How was I supposed to know you pull down on the tub faucet. It's an aesthetically pleasing design (kind of), if only because there is nothing distracting you from the beautiful and soothing white tile. BUT, there is no clue to indicate that you can pull down on this other than the bumped edge, which barely seems to exist until you realize/know that's a clue for your hand.

Maybe I'm just bitter. Maybe my pride was a little damaged by this experience. But still. This is a crappily designed shower (no offense to Ben - it was relatively clean and it worked fine once it was on), and left even yours truly pissed and confused.

Objects from No Impact Man

No Impact Man, one of my favorite bloggers on sustainability, recently shared an object that represents culture, sustainability and elegant design all in one. These types of objects provide experiences that specifically remind us of specific cultural decisions and influences, and bring us present with our actions. Not to mention this is a particularly beautiful set!

The one question I have about this object is how although the design is so appropriate for the function, the use is not particularly intuitive. Would it be possible to make this set more intuitive, or would you lose the simplicity of the design? I guess it would be intuitive to those who are raised in a culture that interact with this object.

Me and Objects Versus Everyone Else

Last week, for her senior project, my friend Cambrie did a series of workshops to open people up to the concept of dialogue. I participated in three of the four, and was particularly interested by an exercise we did in the first of the workshops - bringing in and sharing an object that was significant to us. Of course, me being who I am (clear by being the author of this ridiculous blog), I was so amped. Deciding which object to bring was actually kind of hard because there are so many that mean so much to me as a part of my life. I settled on my most important one: my bike. Some of the other options included my helmet, my cell phone and my planner. The explanation that I have for my bike is that it the single most important object in my life, and the representation of so many things that I strongly value, including freedom, mobility, connection to my community and my environment, and taking a joy in life. When I explained this to the group, I also tacked on that my parents had purchased the bike for me as a graduation present and I was grateful to them for having done that.

What made my object and my explanation and understanding about it different was that nearly everyone else brought an object that was attached to a person or a story in a more significant way. There was a lot of jewelry, a fair number of photographs and a few other non-functional tokens of love, affection and stories together. People described the story related to that object, or the emotion that they felt when receiving the object or when they interact with it now. It was a lot about reminding oneself about past experiences.

I know that I interact with objects differently than other people, but it's not frequently that I am blatantly reminded of that. My interpretation of objects is that they are not equivalent or even (most of the time) tied to memories, experiences or relationships. Yes, I keep a lot of stuff, but most of it I keep for it's intrinsic value as opposed to the memory that it triggers. But, for me objects are only valuable as themselves. This kind of makes me concerned that some day when I start losing my memory (more than I already do for those of you who have unfortunately experienced my rough short-term memory recently) I may need those objects to evoke a memory, emotion or relationship for me, and I may simply not have them.

So, perhaps this puts me in a position where I'm not a great person to be conducting research about why people care about objects, and how they relate to them, since I don't have any grounding in their relationships with objects, rather just my strange and unusual relationship. Maybe it this is what makes me so fascinated with human interaction, though.

The Shape of Food: Tropicana Redesign

Yet another food packaging redesign brought to me (and therefore you) by Rachel. Tropicana recently redesigned their orange juice boxes, to relatively poor outcomes. It did so poorly they're actually pulling it off the self.

Now, I don't drink Tropicana, and this is not a product placement (neither is the cool whip entry), but I have some feelings about the qualities of both boxes as objects.

First of all, as a consumer object, the new box is more sale and less information. The old boxes are clearly labeled by their color and their text in the front and center. The for "pulp free" nearly disappears into the glass of orange juice, and the band along the top does little to inform. The glass of orange juice doesn't actually invoke orange juice (at least not for me), but says something more along the lines of orange Faygo. Gross? And the font is pretty boring, mundane modern text. Anyone could make that Word 2007 with the auto fonts.

But what do I love about this bottle? The cap, clearly. It's shaped like a little half an orange, evoking the previous symbol of Tropicana and the contents of the case itself. The little half-orange is pitted like a real orange (except made of plastic), and gives a continual reminder that , in fact, drinking orange juice is a pleasure.

So the redesign may have failed the test of the consumers (with whom I generally agree), but as far as I'm concerned, they were able to redeem themselves with that one little cap change. I really hope it stays, so I can get one and add it to my collection with the Cool Whip cap. Or I'll have to run out to the store soon and get one before they disappear off the shelves (as collectors items?! Probably not in Missouri...).

Mini Metro Buses

This doesn't really fit into what I normally write about on this blog, but who's to define normal when I don't write here enough to define normality.

Here we have a three mini-Metro Buses that I made this afternoon. They're about 3 inches long (there's nothing in there for scale, sorry). They're made out of sheets of paper, folded together and glued with an archival quality glue stick. The colored ones are Sharpie and/or colored pencil.

Why put these on here? These are objects that I made myself. With my own hands, inspired by the Metro-produced folding train banks (one of which floats above my desk). These objects serve no particular purpose, but as a trinket they are effective for one purpose for me — reminding other people about the bus and it's struggles here in St. Louis. I'm going to use these buses to film some little videos to help publicize an event I'm putting together, and hopefully we'll have a little army of them made for the even itself, so everyone can take home their own favorite bus.

These little trinkets won't last long (especially when I light them on fire!), but they put some DIY fun into a transit system that's pretty inaccessible. Is having a paper bus on your desk going to remind you to ride the bus and vote for transit initiatives? Probably not. But it could become a conversation piece about why we should support and value transit, and that could lead to something good.

The Shape of Food: The Cool Whip Container

One of the on-going themes in my object lust is objects that convey their purpose through form. For me, the ultimate examples of this principle are food containers that somehow embody the food they contain. This ranges from the total obvious and cheesy (as this example is), to the absolutely subtle but appropriate (yet to come).

This Cool Whip container came to me through my friend Rachel who saw it and instantly realized that the Cool Whip tube and I were meant to be. Yes, it's stupidly wasteful to put Cool Whip in a Reddi Whip tube (and also a little bit weird, frankly), but the brilliance really lies in the top. Besides being so much less annoying than the Reddi Whip top, which in my experience tends to snap off at the weak point right when you need to open it, it distinguishes the Cool Whip from any other whipped toping in a steel can that you may find in the dairy section with that classic Cool Whip shape. Reddi Whip has squiggles, but Cool whip is smooth and luscious, a little bit like this plastic lid.

I didn't save the whole can, but I did save the lid. It reminds me a little of the Cupcakes dolls I had when I was a little kid. For me, there is a sense of joy and play in the shape of this lid (although I guess it would look a little like the gchat symbol ~@~ if it were covered in mud, but that's not really relevant). When I saw the can in our fridge for the week after this potluck, I giggled a little bit inside. I was also struck by how it reminded me of all the things that Cool Whip is—smooth, refreshing, creamy; without pointing out the things that I don't like about Cool Whip—the artificial flavor, the overly sweet aftertaste.

Even though these design decisions are all about marketing, there is a level of fun that is achieved from making the normal way to convince someone to purchase your product or eat your whipped topping a direct relationship.

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.