Celebrating the materialist

Materialism. Yikes. That’s the socially acceptable reaction to the concept of materialism or, to put it in a very easy, simplified way, the love of stuff. Things. Objects. Objects you can buy. Objects in the most literal senseNow we’ve established the meaning, it’s time for me to come clear: my name is Daphne and I’m a materialist. Why does this make me sound like an alcoholic or drug addict? I just enjoy having loads of objects around me and the buying part of it makes me happy. Nothing wrong with that if you ask me. Let’s end the taboo of materialism right here and right fucking now.

As you might’ve guessed, I think Marx’s idea to cut private ownership is the most ridiculous notion ever. Ever. I could say that I hate that idea because I love stuff as I said before, but, even though that’s very much true, I think there’s a more sophisticated argument for rejecting that particular notion. That argument is creativity. For me, creativity is the one thing that keeps the world going. Without creativity, the world would not only be boring, but also very primitive and empty. It takes a lot of creativity to invent something like for example the wheel. Not an entirely unnecessary invention if I may say so. But, as all creatives must know, creativity isn’t just there. It derives from us artists being inspired. That’s where objects come in. Books have a great power to inspire, because they give us an amazing insight in other people’s thoughts. Clothing has a great power to inspire, because it give us all a way to express ourselves directly and publicly and by doing so we can inspire and be inspired by people who also do so. Random objects we fill our houses with can connect to memories that can again inspire us. You may argue that memories for example are in your mind and books can be taken out of a library. But memories aren’t just in your mind. Look around your house and you’ll see how much objects are of great sentimental value to you. Why? Probably not because they’re worth that much, but because they remind you of what you love and maybe even of who you are. Books of course can be found in a library, but there’s nothing better than making the thoughts of your favourite writer yours, having them close to you and being able to access them at any given time. Or being able to look at pictures the most talented photographers have taken, also at any given time.

All of these objects you fill your life with, say something about you, whether they’re clothes, candle holders, notebooks, perfume bottles or anything else for that matter. I have found that objects define me, not because they make me but because I’ve chosen those particular objects to do so. And whenever I find something new that I choose to be special to me, I’m inspired to explore a new part of me.You never know, it might be the next great thing deriving from that new, all inspired part. I wouldn’t have been able to even discover that part if I wouldn’t have been able to make new things my own and if they had just been everybody’s possession. After all, there’s nothing more killing to creativity than the idea that everyone is the same.

 

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2 Comments

  1. Really nice piece of writing. I was just wondering how you’d feel about borrowing things for a bit – I’m already imagining a nice Picasso tucked into the corner of my office… Recently there’s been a movement suggesting that things kill creativity because we are all addicted to stuff. See Stuffocation by James Wallman. Nicola http://islingtonfacesblog.com

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