[written in 2020]
WELCOME HOME: RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN HOME MATERIALS, FUNCTION (OR LACK THEREOF), AND COMFORT
Being inside, self-care, and one’s own home have all become particularly relevant themes in the COVID-19 pandemic climate, whether they are being mentioned by the government or by social media. It has become necessary to make your house into a home, rather than just a place of shelter, and yet the word ‘refuge’ has also never been more applicable to such places. It is what is brought into these spaces that has become of interest to myself; during times where we must stay inside, I have found myself investing in homeware and tchotchkes that have function, an aesthetic appeal, or simply improve my mood by interacting with it. Items like these have become essential to my life, even if not in function, but in how they contribute to not making all four metaphorical walls look identical.
Right now, we tend to ‘return home’ far less than usual, as we will not have been outside in the first place. Items that we can interact with upon reentering have been replaced with items of frequent function - a bowl once used for keys gathers dust, whilst an umbrella stand remains dry. Some of these objects may hold a particular sentimental value, yet we cannot experience them in the way that we once used to. On the contrary, functional items - despite always being of use - tend not to hold those same emotions or memories, or have little significance aside from being helpful in our day-to-day lives. However, the combination of ‘functional’ and ‘comforting’ is a quality that will not only enhance the user’s everyday experience, but evoke emotion whilst using it, usually joy or comfort.
[Fig. 1: A photograph of a set of wooden Japanese-style utensils, consisting of chopsticks, a fork and a spoon.]
During my free time, I enjoy cooking and finding new recipes as creativity and nourishing myself are important to me - once again fusing function and comfort. Figure 1 displays a set of cutlery that I own: the handles of each utensil are wrapped with soft twine that softens how it rests against the skin, and the shapes are delicately glazed to smoothen each mouthful. Each prong is sharp enough to pierce food but not skin, and although the image is cool-toned, these objects to me represent warmth. The joy from their usage enriches their place as a standard functional object. Chopsticks are considered a craft in Japan, where a single set of wakasa-nuri-bashi can take over a year of hand-crafting to produce a pair, with elements such as leaves and pine needles used to create tiny yet intricate patterns on the wood. The dedication that goes into each pair can not go unnoticed, and it is these traditional techniques that can elevate a simple everyday object into one that brings joy and comfort to the user. It becomes a symbol of self-consideration that even a small addition to a daily routine can evoke an emotional response; one that acknowledges that the user cares enough about themselves to want to bring comfort to their daily rituals.
[Fig. 2: A ceramic painted plate shaped to look like a leaf.]
Another area in which one can consider materials, function and comfort to be intertwined is tableware. In many Asian countries, food is served on banana leaves as they are flexible, large enough to hold many portions, and add an aroma to some foods. It is waste-free and of minimal cost to the environment, as one plant alone can produce up to forty leaves, so they are also used for more disposable purposes such as wrapping and steaming ingredients. Western restaurants will often serve similar cuisines on leaves for the aesthetic appeal, therefore blending the ‘experience’ of the meal with functionality, although it should be noted that this practice is less sustainable as banana plants are not typically grown in colder climates. Figure 2 displays a ceramic plate that was found in a charity shop, and as I picked it up I was already thinking about what I could serve on it. The fact that an item - one that didn’t even belong to me at that point - could make me think about how I could implement it into a soothing hobby of mine makes it more significant than a mass-produced plate from a high-street store. It has the ability to evoke a response without even being used, and puts the comfort ever so slightly before the function, no matter how small the distance between the two.
Considering the discovery of this plate at a charity shop, delving further into immateriality through material itself becomes an interesting topic; is materialism still considered as such if the item has been passed down? Is a secondhand item with no function other than sparking joy less materialistic than a brand-new, mass-produced functional item? Buddhism, considered a major religion in China, argues that “material things only provide physical comfort, not mental comfort” (Gyatso, 2007), yet this can be contested by considering the emotional response that an item evokes. Individuals are asked to consider material possessions within their home in D. Miller’s The Comfort of Things book, to which one participant responded that “he has a horror of...material culture, [but] he doesn’t live in emptiness...he ensures that his room contains representations from the four elements” (Miller, 2008), and it is considered “a very selective material culture, but it is still material culture” (Miller, 2008). This acknowledges the want for seemingly useless items, but also portrays them in a way that honours why the owner would want them, even if it is somewhat frowned upon in their culture or religion.
[Fig. 3: A photograph from Masaki Yamamoto’s ‘GUTS’ series, showcasing family life in a tiny apartment in Japan.]
When we speak of function and comfort, we do not assume that an item can be neither as it renders it pointless. GUTS, a series by Masaki Yamamoto, explores the life of a seven-person family in just one room. Each photograph is monochromatic, devoid in colour yet rich in content. An old electric grill, once functional for cooking, now serves as a mirror stand in Figure 3 yet still takes up too much room. Waste and crockery are strewn across the room - nothing in these photographs that was once useful can now be considered as such, let alone thought of as comforting - yet once the family were able to move out “Yamamoto’s mother pasted his photographs on the walls[...]” (Stewart J., 2018). This completely contrasts what the viewer is perceiving about their home - messy, uncomfortable, unwelcoming - and suggests that the mother does in fact find comfort in their clutter, in their collections of materials, and perhaps has tied some family memories to specific areas or objects within the single room.
Exploration of functional objects in the home that contribute aesthetic or sentimental values brings fireplaces into the discussion. Mantlepieces “are not necessary for narrative or aesthetic accomplishment...[but] do predicate and delineate display space at the room’s central point, in a way that perhaps no other architectural convention has done”, (Hurdley, 2006) and suggests that items with not just function but an architectural responsibility to the home contribute more narrative. Each mantlepiece can hold many photos and trinkets that offer discussion value as well as providing raw structure and form to a room or house; Hurdley’s argument suggests that with the mantle as a ‘central point’ it serves as display space where the owner can determine and stage their own narrative. As an example, photographs of family will provide a homely, relatable, perhaps already known narrative as opposed to souvenirs or artefacts from a different country or culture - the latter of this argument would spark nostalgia for the owner and intrigue from guests.
When presented in context, small non-functional objects receive their own purpose through storytelling and physical appeal. The aesthetics of such an object are described as a “dimension of the semiotic, [which] celebrates the transformation of the material by the abstract” (Stewart S., 1984), and this suggests that the interior in which an item is placed will bring different suggested narratives to its character. The arrangement of a theoretical plain hand-crafted pot holding a Mediterranean-grown plant may evoke imagery of traditional European architecture even if the pot does not hold origins there. The plain white colour relates to the white-painted walls of a Spanish home, whilst an olive branch planted inside appeals to smell and taste senses too, maybe reminding the viewer of a traditional meal from said place.
This argument can also be applied if the owner has these items in their home to give them a sense of cultural identity; the inclusion of items in a home from a particular religion or culture where they may have family or were born will bring comfort upon viewing even if the item has no other physical purpose. However, it could also be argued that the very creation of such an item becomes a purpose in itself, no matter where the item is sourced; the process of creation can become a therapeutic hobby or the sale of them provides an income as well as something to do. One example of this concept in practice is that of African-Caribbean migrant women and the craft of crochet doilies, “used to layer, cover and to enhance the display of things in the front room” (McMillan, 2009), and whose makers “accepted these commissions to supplement their income” (McMillan, 2009). The comforting act is not just the creation of a functional object, but of one that the maker feels a strong cultural connection to which can then be passed on through visual aesthetic, narrative, or simply to another person with the same cultural experience. Additionally, financial stability is another source of comfort and Black migrant women being able to support themselves and their families through creation of a traditional cultural home staple should be considered a situation which fulfils all criteria for ‘comfort and function’.
Through my research, I have concluded that the central property of an item does not need to be physical functionality so long as it holds significance to the user. The overlap of both such properties is preferred, however objects will hold different values to everyone, and ultimately it is up to the individual to decide what a material means to them.