This dispatch comes to you from my spare room.
The carpet has been up for a while now, but the original floorboards were only refinished recently. I hadn’t realised quite how much the change would affect me. |
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I’ve been thinking a lot about something I call habitat.
The things you spend the most time around are, aesthetically, the most important. In a very literal sense, I spend more time looking at my toothpaste than I do at most “important” objects. So why shouldn’t it matter how it looks? |
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The carpet that was here when we moved in wasn’t awful. Just… non-specifically depressing. It was a sort of low-level visual hum I’d learned to ignore. I knew I’d prefer to see the wooden floors, but I wasn’t prepared for the shift in mood that came with the change.
And because I work from home, don’t go out a huge amount, and use this room as a wardrobe, a laundry drying space, and a place to shoot most of my images, it really matters.
Somewhere along the way, though, I’d taught myself that it didn’t. That paying attention to this kind of thing was frivolous, even nauseatingly privileged.
But despite the constant stream of images from elsewhere, real or not, the world we actually live in is the one immediately around us.
We travel to experience different, beautiful habitats. We invest time, effort and money into that.
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But what about the ones we have some control over? Our homes. And even closer to us: our clothes. They come with us everywhere.
Even if we’re not standing in front of a mirror, we’re always aware of them. As I write this, sitting cross-legged on the sofa bed, I can see the cuff of my sleeve, the folds of my jumper, my jeans, my slippers on the floor in front of me. I think about this a lot when I’m designing, what you actually see, day to day.
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If these things have colours I find pleasing, textures I enjoy, or hold some kind of memory or pleasant association, how is that not worth caring about? |
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There are still plenty of things in my home and wardrobe that don’t meet my particular standards. And I notice how quickly my language turns into “effort” and “work” when I think about changing them.
I’m not sure it needs to be framed that way. I think I’d rather enjoy it.
Small shifts, medium ones, the occasional big change. Paying closer attention and collecting things slowly. After all, the thinking about, dreaming of, and considering is part of the fun.
There are lots of things that make life worth living and, for me, these things, and the pursuit of them, are very much on that list.
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