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Continuing the post about the impact of material choice on an object, the physical material of the object also has the potential to extend and deepen the human-object relationship. It can become a visual and haptic recording of its story and use, literally aging with its user. However, there is a key difference between materials wearing in and wearing out. Natural materials, like leather, denim, and wood, can age with dignity, becoming more beautiful over time. Grant Petersen, founder of Rivendell Bicycles, and designer of the renowned RB-1 Bridgestone, created the portmanteau beausage to describe the beauty that can develop over time through the use of a product. Grant said, "In general, real materials develop beausage, and synthetics look like old junk." These synthetics, instead of developing a patina and a recorded history of its 'life', just look dirty. Even though we might have a plastic computer mouse that still works, we replace it because it looks grimy and stained. But there are ways to design plastics that acknowledge the inevitability of wear. This concept car design understands that bumpers will get scratched and worn.
The Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi accepts the transience and embraces the beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete". The wabi-sabi aesthetic recognizes that time will pass and materials will wear - and designs for it.
The simplicity of wabi-sabi is best described as the state of grace arrived at by a sober, modest, heartfelt intelligence…Usually this implies a limited palette of materials. It also means keeping conspicuous features to a minimum. But it doesn’t mean removing the invisible connective tissue that somehow binds the elements into a meaningful whole. It also doesn’t mean in any way diminishing something’s “interestingness”, the quality that compels us to look at that something over, and over, and over again.
In addition to the source of the above passage, Wabi-Sabi: for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers, I should look at About Time and Eternally Yours: Design in Time, a collection of writings on product endurance and durability.
Document my own relationship with my raw denim. I can take photos that record the wearing in of my jeans.
Document relationship with a new object. I can find something that I would love to have and document my thoughts and feelings as I research, covet, purchase, unbox, use, and become accustomed to the object.
Compile photos of objects (and the actual objects, when possible) that have gained character, developed a patina, endured over time, depict beausage, and embody wabi-sabi.
Objects play signficant roles in our lives. But there are two ends of the spectrum of human-object relations: the extreme and the mundane. At the extreme, there exists the super-collectors, addicts, and brandwhores that actively consume, use, and collect. As mentioned in the brand allegiance post, user forums are a great source of information about these relationships. At the mundane, the relationship is so passive, the objects are so much a part of our world, that we do not acknowledge them. Fukasawa and Morrison call these objects Supernormal and Bruno Munari called them anonymous. But by any name these "quietly extraordinary" objects are so essential and pure that they are invisible. However, these are the most enduring objects because they are timeless and never go out of fashion.
Goods have traversed the globe for centuries, but never at the pace, volume, and complexity that they do today - much of the reason why it is so difficult (impossible?) to accurately calculate carbon footprint. I should read The Travels of a T-Shirt in the Global Economy, if I want to proceed with this idea.
I am very interested in the 'life' of products - not only trying to design for long life (endurance or anti-obsolescence), but also the extraordinary tale of history, knowledge, and capability that each product tells. Getting an item from the thrift store, for example, is always interesting because often there is some evidence of where or when it was made. But the mystery of how it got to that place, where it has been, and how it has affected the people it's come into contact with is largely unknown. Each thing has a unique story, and more often than not, little of that story is known. When more is known, like some of the items on "Antiques Roadshow," it often makes for a very compelling narrative.
