2025, Sometimes objects can be so annoying.
It’s nearing 5 p.m., and I’ve been sitting in my closet office all day, avoiding phone calls, thinking about the life and death of objects. If I were to answer any calls and they asked what I was doing, I’d ask myself that same question—and honestly, I’d probably stop pulling the thread, and that can’t happen because I am a detective who is hot on the fucking case rn!
Anyway, the question of the day has seesawed, but it started when my friend, who is in school for therapy, texted me about techniques for cyclical thoughts (mostly negative self-talk) and how to change them. My favorite technique was “walk around a room while saying aloud, ‘I can’t walk around this room.’” It made me think about memory and how I have a hard time visualizing things until they are tangible. The act of literally walking around while saying a thought aloud transforms it into physical reality, and from there it stores itself in memory. Then it becomes something I can file away as fact—
thought → action → memory → fact
I was thinking about this all morning, and what feels crazy to me is how similar it is to my process of object making, and here I am, eight hours later, now dreaming up my ideal object, which seems to be a public bench?
My train of thought went from therapy, memory, ego, art therapy, then to art, design, object, and finally to my question: what do I want to see in an object? I suppose the question is weighted differently when you’re the one creating the thing, because you have to wrestle it from your imagination into reality, then live with it, and eventually watch it fade into memory—sometimes it loiters way longer than expected which can be surprising.
I saw a documentary recently in which someone’s official title was “memory scientist.” That really stuck with me. Sometimes I go into detective mode when I look at objects, searching for clues and asking myself, “Is there anything interesting about you at all?” Do I like this thing? Wait—maybe I really don’t, but I can’t stop thinking about it. At least an off-putting response is genuine; at least then I know I’m not being swayed by hidden marketing or a designer’s desire for admiration. The maker’s intention usually has a particular stank on it, silently leaning over my shoulder, whispering, “Please! Appreciate me!” Meanwhile, I’m over here, having fallen into a deep codependent flair-up, silently smiling and nodding, while internally screaming at the inanimate object in front of me, “What do you want from me?!!!! Stop forcing me to like you!!!!”
And maybe that’s why I keep coming back to minimalism for comfort: it’s quiet and reliable. Minimalist objects don’t try to convince you to like them. There’s no thick layer of personality smeared all over them, no maker’s ego or logo clinging to the surface, demanding acknowledgment. A minimalist object just says, “Here is my shape, here is what I do, and that is all.”
And I can’t help thinking how things could be different if an object’s intention wasn’t driven by capitalism. Planned obsolescence is so frustrating: we’re encouraged to love an intentionally short-lived object, then told it’s no longer good enough or needs to be upgraded—while we sit uncomfortably in emotional limbo, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it breaks, becomes obsolete, or lets us down. It’s discouraging to realize that I live in a system where I can’t simply remove myself from the cycle of objects that wear down my emotional resilience and promote emotional exhaustion.
It makes me think about my role as an object maker: to understand that an object has both a physical and a psychological role, and to insist on designs that honor our need for continuity, comfort, and true personal connection. A well-made object that’s built to last can become deeply meaningful; it’s there with you through life, forging a sense of stability and reassurance in repeated use. Good design promotes repeated use and makes it less about the design itself and more about the rhythms of life it supports. I don’t know what to say other than it’s 7 p.m. Was today lost? It’s made me realize that I’ve never made a “good” object. My greatest objects are the unfortunate looking ones, and the ones I’ve helped others make. I’m getting up right now to walk around this room while saying I’m not walking around this room and to answer my question: What do I want to see in an object? Here I made a list:
I want the designated keeper of the item to have the space to imprint their own meaning and sentimentality onto it.
I want the object to allow room for the person to create meaning.
I don’t want the object to take up all the space in the room.
I want the object to be utilitarian.
I want the object to allow for multidisciplinary thought and conversation.
I want the object to be socialist in nature—something for everyone.
I want the object to be impossible to covet, while simultaneously being universally loved.
I want the object to have room for two.
I want the object to create warmth and stimulate growth.
I want the object to be stable and dependable.
I want the object to surpass ordinary object permanence, planned obsolescence, and scarcity mindsets.
I want the object to defy inflation.
I want the object to adapt.
I want the object to be universally understood.
The object has no religious affiliation.
The object incites no envy or malice.
Ettore Sottsass – Founder of Memphis Group, known for radical, colorful, and playful furniture.
Book: Ettore Sottsass: Ettore Sottsass (Phaidon) - life and work
Carlo Bugatti – Avant-garde Art Nouveau furniture with Moorish and Japanese influences.
Jean Prouvé – Industrial yet elegant furniture, blending engineering with aesthetics.
Book: A Passion for Jean Prouvé (Seguin) – A deep dive into his industrial design approach.
Pierre Paulin – Modernist, sculptural seating like the Ribbon Chair.
Book: Pierre Paulin: Life and Work (Flammarion) – Covers his mid-century modern masterpieces.
Charlotte Perriand – Minimalist, modular, and highly functional designs.
Eileen Gray – Iconic pieces like the E-1027 table, blending modernism and functionality.
Book: Eileen Gray: Designer and Architect - A study of her innovative modernist work.
Gae Aulenti – Postmodernist designs, including the famous Pipistrello lamp.
Book: Gae Aulenti – Explores her multifaceted design career.
Shiro Kuramata – Dreamlike, ethereal furniture with acrylic and industrial materials.
Verner Panton – Psychedelic, space-age plastic furniture.
Gaetano Pesce – Experimental, organic, and political designs (e.g., Up Series chairs).
Book: Gaetano Pesce – A manifesto on diversity in design.
Wendell Castle – Sculptural wooden furniture, blending craft and surrealism.
Book: Wendell Castle: Remastered – A complete record of his sculptural furniture.
Ron Arad – Deconstructivist, fluid metal furniture like the Bookworm shelf.
Book: Ron Arad – Showcases his boundary-pushing work.
Jorge Pensi – Sleek, futuristic aluminum and plastic designs.
Philippe Starck – Iconic postmodernist designer known for playful, conceptual objects.
Book: Starck: Design Monograph – A playful, visual biography of his career.
Marc Newson – Futuristic, fluid, highly collectible industrial designs.
Book: Marc Newson Works (Taschen) – A monograph spanning his most famous futuristic designs.
Tom Dixon – Industrial chic metal furniture and lighting.
Joris Laarman – 3D-printed and algorithmic furniture experiments.
Studio Job – Surreal, highly detailed, pop-art-influenced furniture and objects.
Book: Studio Job: Monkey Business (Taschen) – A wild exploration of their surreal world.
Faye Toogood – Organic, sculptural furniture inspired by primitive forms.
Max Lamb – Raw, brutalist, process-driven furniture.
Book: Max Lamb – An experimental book on his hands-on furniture process.
Sabine Marcelis – Resin and light-driven, minimal yet striking objects.
Misha Kahn – Maximalist, colorful, playful, and absurdist furniture.
Soft Baroque – Blurring digital and handmade techniques.
Martino Gamper – Playful, postmodern, one-off furniture (100 Chairs in 100 Days).
James Shaw – Sustainability-focused, experimental plastics furniture.
Chris Wolston – Hand-crafted, tropical, almost cartoonish furniture.
Jonah Takagi – Hybrid of Japanese and mid-century influences.
Lukas Gschwandtner – Conceptual furniture with a focus on historical references.