December 29, 2022

"The anti-clutter nags conflate two distinct forms of materialism. In behavioral psychology terms, 'terminal materialism' refers to..."

"... acquiring and valuing an object purely for its intrinsic properties — like a fancy new iPhone (that will inevitably become obsolete). The worthless-looking junk we hang on to often exemplifies 'instrumental materialism,' valued for its connection to another person, a place, a time in our lives, a meaningful affiliation. These can take obvious forms — a wedding ring, a crucifix. But they can also be as eccentric and inscrutable as an abundance of paperweights or a ceramic leprechaun."

Writes Rob Walker in "Clutter Is Good for You" (NYT).

Walker quotes a book by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and Eugene Rochberg-Halton that asserted: "We began to notice that people who denied meanings to objects also lacked any close network of human relationships."

A disturbing challenge to minimalists!

But minimalists — like Marie Kondo — don't oust all the objects, just the ones that lack enough meaning. The ones they keep are especially meaningful. If the objects you keep in your life really do correspond to the people you keep in your life, then we're not talking about "lack[ing] any close... human relationships." It's just about the size of the crowd, and one might have fewer, deeper relationships.

In any case, the Csikszentmihalyi/Halton quote is about denying all meaning to objects, but the declutterer is finding the items with the best meaning, the meaning you want most present in your life. So I think the difference isn't about meaning or meaninglessness, but whether you find more meaning in crowds of people/things or you find more in less.  

Walker continues: "For nearly a decade, I’ve taught an annual workshop on writing about objects for the Design Research department of New York’s School of Visual Arts. Scores of participants from around the world have invariably chosen subject-objects that most of us might dismiss as clutter — a coffee mug, a lighter, a poodle-shaped stick pin — and yet the tales they tell about them are deeply meaningful and serve as a helpful way for the students to introduce themselves."

Well, that suggests a de-cluttering tip. When you pick up each item, to decide whether to keep or oust, instead of asking the Marie Kondo question — Does this "spark joy"? — ask Walker's Design Research question — Could I write an essay about this?

38 comments:

Lawnerd said...

Materialism was a millennial fad based on people who's entire life revolved around their computer, phone, and internet access. Thus says the person posting a comment on a blog.

traditionalguy said...

Love this post. Pure Althouse.

rehajm said...

There are people who just aren't wired for this 'instrumental materialism'. My in laws covet the giving process over the objects themselves. Never is there a story to connect the thing. To me they just look like hoarders- after a few Christmases the stuff starts to pile up. I've learned to accept their junk piles and appreciate their ways, but I'll never tolerate their Grinch j'accuses...

Nate Berkus has made a career out of this. He and his Snowball 2 have a series on Discovery+ devoted to it...

rehajm said...

I admit I managed to contract the vintage watch virus from the YouTube algorithms. Now I'm fascinated with everyone's watch. EVERYONE can write an essay about their watch...

Laslo Spatula said...

Csikszentmihalyi: a clutter of letters, there.

I am Laslo.

Dear corrupt left, go F yourselves said...

I'm tired of dusting.

rehajm said...

The dude knocks the obsolescence of the iPhone but it’s what builds scarcity and therefore future value. Tribes of jailbreakers will one day make a mint…

Money Manger said...

Mangers Law: The disposal of any object triggers a long dormant need for said object within 90 days.

Aggie said...

Say, I've got an idea - why not have the sentimentalists among us collect all the keepsakes and memorabilia that their heart desires, while all the Scandinavian anal-retentive clutter-avoidance behavior types sweep all that crap on the counter into the trash? Embrace Diversity!

Rocco said...

Money Manger said...
Mangers Law: The disposal of any object triggers a long dormant need for said object within 90 days.

My sisters have a corollary: Whenever one gets rid of old out-of-fashion clothes from the back of the closet, that triggers triggers said apparel coming back in to fashion.

Kate said...

Clutter is not good for you.

A wedding ring and a crucifix, items with social and religious purpose, are not comparable to a poodle stick pin.

Laslo landed the joke before I (or anyone else) could. Hat tip.

tcrosse said...

Csikszentmihalyi: a clutter of letters, there.

Easy for you to say....

Lurker21 said...

"We began to notice that people who denied meanings to objects also lacked any close network of human relationships."

Alas, so do many people who attach great meaning to objects. Do they accumulate because they don't have human relationships, or do they lack human relationships because they attach too much value to stuff, or does all the clutter make it hard to have people over to the house or to get out of it?

When you pick up each item, to decide whether to keep or oust, instead of asking the Marie Kondo question — Does this "spark joy"? — ask Walker's Design Research question — Could I write an essay about this?

Most of my clutter is books, and yes I probably could write an essay about all of them, though maybe not a good one. So much of education does involve writing about books, even books one hasn't actually read.

It's said that clutterers may have more imagination, so yes, we could probably write essays about our mementos, as well as find (or imagine) a use for everything we have.

Breezy said...

Hmmm, can OCD require frequently cleaning out one’s human relationships, or foregoing them altogether?

rhhardin said...

There's also just not cleaning up because mess doesn't bother you.

BIII Zhang said...

"I began to notice that Lector denied meanings to objects, and also lacked any close network of human relationships." - Clarice Starling.

RMc said...

When your names are Csikszentmihalyi and Rochberg-Halton, clutter is unavoidable.

Wince said...

"If I catch any of you guys in my stuff, I'll kill ya'."

"Lighten up, Francis." - Sgt. Hulka

Caroline said...

this really hit me where I live. Since I’m the same age as our Hostess, I’m wondering if Ann is going through what I’m going through….as we lose parents and must sift through their things and keep, distribute, or dispose. I could write a very, very long comment about all the “stuff” I am hanging onto. Okay I now have a name for it: instrumental materialism.
I struggle with this as aCatholic, because there is a tension to maintain between our incarnational existence— matter matters to a Catholic; it must be bread, it must be wine, it must be water…matter and elements have a sacramental character— it’s the only way we humans can apprehend the unseen mystery of the divine— on the other hand we are to detach from earthly things.
Currently I am struggling with what to do with my mother’s piano, which I’ve had since she downsized in 06. It is an antique Bluthner Queen Victoria, gorgeous and ornate, a stunning distillation of Belle Epoch Paris. It was exhibited at the exposition mondiale, and I believe my great grandfather purchased it for my great grandmother as a wedding present. (They were French, long story). It has always been in the family.
After writing my mother’s biography, I came to appreciate the piano all the more. I’m the only one who played as a child, and just haven’t found the time to get back to it.
The trouble is, it is in what should be our dining room. We entertain at a table in the kitchen, but now both kids are married with children and I really, really need a dining room.
So I agonise.
It is part of my family. I know I will grieve it, and that’s probably somewhat disordered. But it is some consolation to know that it’s a very human thing, to attach meaning to things.

tcrosse said...

My wife inherited a lot of bondieuserie, religious tchotchkes, from her mother. It was not to her taste, but she didn't have the heart to throw it out. Now that she has passed away, I don't have the heart to throw it out, either. Perhaps somebody in my posterity will be made of sterner stuff.

Josephbleau said...

“ Could I write an essay about this?”
I could write an essay about anything, is that not the purpose of High School English classes?

I allow clutter, I keep my old unplayed musical instruments. I have stacks of partially read papers on some chairs. I have lots of different 0.7 mm pencils, I did throw out my typewriter. I have an antique calculator collection. And books, and text books. And old cd software releases. Sports equipment.

I find myself pulling old things out and holding them for a few minutes, it keeps old memories alive.

Wilbur said...

My father used to say "If you haven't used it in the last six months, you never will - get rid of it". With very few exceptions (ones he would have acknowledged), he was correct.

Kate said...

Caroline -- lovely story. Perhaps someone who can cherish the piano will come your way. It is the way of the Church. One parish closes and their baldacchino, lovingly purchased years ago, goes to another Catholic altar. Some objects are treasured by many people at different times. Good luck.

Freeman Hunt said...

There are many things I do not get rid of because they spark memory. I think they will be especially useful when I am very old. I don't want to spend my dotage in a barren meaningless designerscape.

Jamie said...

My parents, led by my mother on a decades-long rampage, have been decluttering since they were in their 40s. Their goal appears to be to die with nothing of intrinsic value and to distribute everything of sentimental value to the valuers before the estate sale becomes necessary.

On the one hand, it's very considerate of them. On the other hand, it kind of feels as if they've been in God's waiting room* for 30 years, missing out on life as they prepared for death. But I do recognize that I'm projecting my own feelings about how to live into them.

(* That's actually what a friend called the 7am mass at our church. Everyone else called it the Golfers' Special.)

Michael K said...

My wife is a keeper and we have many things we treasure. She kept all our daughter's baby clothes, folded washed and preserved in a plastic storage bin. When our daughter had her first baby at age 40, her mother gave her all the baby clothes. It was a very emotional moment.

SteveWe said...

I don't care about what YOU think I should keep or not. Mind your own business!

I Have Misplaced My Pants said...

Objects created by or to be used by human hands and in the physical process of human life are often precious. Digital anything and disposable furnishings and clothing made by machines or slave labor never is.

J said...

“The people aren’t the things” is my motto when decluttering. I know I’m not throwing away a relationship if I discard an unneeded gift, or old china that won’t be used. My mom has done a similar job of passing down as much as possible so I don’t have to go through her things at the end. I try to keep in mind Lindy’s law about the longer something stays around the longer is WILL stay, and declutter things before they take on a meaning just by familiarity only. How many Christmas decorations have no meaning other than we see them again every year, and they came from a garage sale?

n.n said...

Clutter is an action and state where material, behavioral, and spiritual space is filled through replacement. For example, the wicked solution a.k.a. planned parenthood replaces human life and compassion with human rites performed for social, redistributive, clinical, political, and fair weather causes.

PresbyPoet said...

We have thousands of books here in Mordor west. (Many literate relatives). Going thru many books to see what to keep, found a former library book from a county in the mountains. It looks like one of the first books from when they started the library over 120 years ago. Found their phone # online, called. They were interested in the book, as an early part of their history. Sent it off. Book #1286, returned home after 100 years.

Other books are my mother's from when she was young. She died when I was a young child, not yet a teenager. Looking at books, many years old, reveal what she read, and her interests from the deep past. The books speak from a time we know not. To see books she wrote in long before my birth is a blessing. They reveal someone long dead, yet who lives in me.

Books are time machines. Another book we have from the deep past is one written in 1921 by Peter B. Kyle, "The pride of Palomar". A time capsule from and about a California that no longer exists. The dedication is to a fellow member of the Bohemian Club in the bay area. The author writes of hoping the book "contains a few faint little echoes of the spirit of that old California that was fast vanishing when I first disturbed the quiet of the Mission Dolores with infantile shrieks".

So a double time capsule, one from when it was written in 1921, and a second perspective of a time soon after America had stolen California from Mexico. This is a book that evokes the same time as the popular British TV series, to reveal secrets we no longer know. Yet today it would be called racist, so no one will ever again travel in this time machine.

BG said...

I live in the same house (same farm) my great-grandparents bought in 1888. I have a pair of my great-grandmother's "spectacles." (Eyeglasses.) Apparently the thing to do was pack up what you wanted and leave the rest for the next in line. A couple of years ago I got rid of a lot of stuff that was just plain useless and to which I had no emotional attachment. Some things I gave to my daughter or niece. (Like my grandmother's treadle sewing machine.) Some things my kids could probably display at my funeral and then pitch. (My pre-Breyer horse figurine, the hand-made, stuffed little horse made out of yarn given to me when I was a toddler, etc.) I'm sure my kids will have no problem getting rid of anything of mine, even if it's antique. I'm probably attached to a few more things because of having them in the family for so long.

Rusty said...

tcrosse said...
"My wife inherited a lot of bondieuserie, religious tchotchkes, from her mother. It was not to her taste, but she didn't have the heart to throw it out. Now that she has passed away, I don't have the heart to throw it out, either. Perhaps somebody in my posterity will be made of sterner stuff.".
My brothers death was an eye opener for me. Nobody values your junk as much as you do. With that in mind I have given away or sold a lot of my junk. After all. How many welders does one man need? Or lathes or shotguns etc.

Lem Vibe Bandit said...

That kind of thing was not encouraged, if not outright discouraged by the accidental? resemblance to 'false idols'.

Original Mike said...

Recalling more on patents (hey, it's been awhile). If federal grant money was involved, it was required that the university make a decision on whether they wanted to take ownership and file. This was required by the Bayh-Dole act (as in Birch Bayh and Bob Dole). If they declined, then patent rights were ours to do with as we wanted. If they did decide to take ownership, we would get a percentage of royalties. That usually didn't amount to much, but if the patent turned into a big money maker, the inventor could end up with quite a sum.

glacial erratic said...

My house furnishings are quite minimalistic. But not my shop! I have a few tools from my grandfather, and several more from my father. Saws, planes, squares, wrenches, I wouldn't part with at any price. When I sweep up the sawdust after a day in the shop, I have a sense of continuity with two preceding generations.

But when my father passed away at the age of 99, I had to draw a line. He had 2 ton machine lathe, made in 1905, and purchased by my Dad for $100 after he returned from WWII. It was a vast black metallic beast on enormous cast iron legs, that crouched in a dark corner of his shop. In use it would be illuminated by a single yellow light on a gooseneck, and it would whir and grumble and squeal, and my Dad could make anything on it.

I eventually learned to use it, to some degree at least, and my Dad expected me to inherit it. But I just didn't have room for a machine I might use a half-dozen times a year! When we were settling his estate, I managed to find a young fellow who was a real old-school machinist. He spent two days disassembling it down to individual sections he could load into his Subaru and haul away, to be reassembled in his own shop.

Sorry, Dad. But it did go to a good home.

Old and slow said...

Home Shop Machinists (HSM's) are a special breed. I used to be a constant reader of rec.crafts.metalworking on usenet. Never even used a lathe, I just enjoyed reading about the people who did.

Rusty said...

Old and slow said...
Bless you. A lot of it was to build prototypes and work out solutions to problems at my every day job. Now I just keep enough around to satisfy my morbid curiosity of how things work.