'Stuff'

I have now got quite a few of the probe packs back in, and reading the responses to one of the postcard questions—What makes your house a home?—has got me thinking that a project about 'stuff' is in order. One of my respondents classifies her 'stuff' in a variety of ways. There are the 'collections' that might consist of things such as thimbles or paperweights; 'projects' that are more often than not art or craft based; and there are 'stocks' that could come in useful at some point or other, and have accumulated over the years.

Doing further reading around stuff throws up some interesting thoughts...

The phrase ‘an accumulation of stuff’ seems to imply there is no one involved, that the stuff increases imperceptibly with a life of its own, like dust balls silently forming under the bed. Perhaps it builds up like the layers of strata visible in cliff faces—deposits that build up naturally over time. However it accumulates, it is stuff that is imbued with a far deeper role than one might realise, one that is inextricably linked with our sense of self.

Our fragile sense of self needs support, and this we get by having and possessing things because, to a large degree, we are what we have and possess.
Yi-Fu Tuan 1980:472

Things like photographs, travel souvenirs and childhood toys become autobiographical objects and form a spatial representation of identity—an autotopography, a ‘physical map of memory, history and belief’ (Gonzalez 1995:133-4). Integral to who we are is a sense of our past. Possessions act as mnemonic devices that can reconstruct the past within the present (Gonzalez 1995:136).

Remembering is like constructing and then travelling again through a space.
Umberto Eco 1986

The stories that these collections tell are not necessarily linear. Often they are a series of seemingly unconnected events or fragments that exist without a tangible plot (Gonzalez 1995:144). As a viewer one might attempt to construct a narrative, but only the owner can relay the full story, filling in the gaps and translating the hidden meanings.

Collecting could still be seen as a way of obtaining a sense of control in our increasingly complex lives. It is a commitment that is evidenced as the collection continues to grow, with the ‘gaps’ getting fewer, as the collection gets closer to completion. Yet the desire to complete is a double edged sword; on the one hand the gaps cry out to be filled with ones own self-completion being achieved only at the completion of the collection; on the other hand, completion is feared as when the collection is completed the focus and commitment of the task is ended. Many collectors address this fear by redefining their collecting focus or goals as completion nears, thus recasting the finite task as infinite (Belk 1988:154).

Stocks are stuff that has been collected with a view to future usefulness. There could be a sense here of the collector stocking up and being prepared for some unforeseen disaster. Then again, a world shortage of jam jars, or a rash of buttonless cardigans are strange and unlikely disasters to prepare for. This irrational hanging onto possessions because ‘they might come in handy some day’ perhaps becomes a ‘grounding’ for our identities that reduces the fear that we can somehow be erased (Belk 1988:159).

One wonders if the stockpiles are more to do with a desire not to throw than there is to actively keep; or perhaps it a desire to keep and an inability to throw away? Perhaps it is also a mentality that comes with a certain age and experience—a generational thing. Mending socks nowadays? Why bother when its £1.99 for seven pairs at Primark.

But what happens when we die?

What will my children do with it when I peg out?
CL 2009

All of our lives will inevitably ‘peter out in a residue of old coats and shoes, stacks of faded newspapers, and all kinds of memorabilia lodged in jars, boxes, chests and cupboards, their significance poignantly annulled’ (Cardinal 2001:23). The ‘stuff’ that once held significance for us and created our ‘physical map of memory, history and belief’ reverts to be just stuff. Its inability to communicate beyond the individual renders it mute, it becomes confined to its material reality, still three-dimensional, but in this respect a one-dimensional signifier, incapable of enlightening us of the memories and meanings that once were ascribed to it.

We have to face the fact that all things, including ourselves, are doomed to be classed one day under the single ultimate heading: EPHEMERA.
Roger Cardinal 2001:30