September 05, 2016

When one fork, knife and spoon is enough - the minimalistic living movement

It's been forever since the last blog post, but many things have happened since then: I finished my Master's thesis (more about that later), graduated from the university and am currently busy with a publication. Last months have flown by so fast that I haven't even realized that the last time I wrote here was on March (!). So it's time for a new post to make it up to you.

Last time I shared my inspiration of Japanese minimalism. I would like to turn back to this topic, but this time I aim to discuss about it more in depth: instead of talking about minimal design of objects, we now talk about minimal living style - in other words, what does it mean to live with a minimal amount of stuff.

Commonly it is thought that objects make home - you know, things like the nice vase that you've found from a thrift store or that old chair you've received from your (grand)parents. However, there are also people who prefer to live with as little as possible. The constant stream of new, fashionable and trendy stuff have exhausted some, making them to turn into a total opposite direction; instead of buying objects, they are giving up on everything unnecessary. The act of giving up on stuff has made them think about our relation to objects and the question what we really need in our everyday lives.


The minimalistic living movement has occured in several parts of the world (especially after the hype caused by KonMari), but especially Japan has been mentioned as a place of 'hardcore minimalists'. Their reasons for minimalistic lifestyle vary from the tiredness of keeping up with trends to spare aesthetics of Zen Buddhism. The lack of stuff has also its more practical sides: with fewer possessions there all less objects to fall when the country is shaken by earthquakes (thirty to fifty percent of earthquake injuries are actually caused by falling objects!).

The thoughts of these minimalists are fascinating. For example Naoki Numahata, a freelance writer, ponders that 'in the west, making a space complete means placing something there...but with tea ceremonies, or Zen, things are left incomplete on purpose to let the person's imagination make that space complete.' Numahata's idea of minimal living style has a touch of Japanese concept known as ma (間), which literally translates to 'space between' but is also known as negative space, void or gap. Ma exists in all facets of life: it is the pause between words or a tea break in a busy day. One purpose of ma is to give space for thoughts and enable men to complete what is missing in their minds. With that said, ma is by no means emptiness but more like temporary or transitory experience. In the Japanese living spaces ma manifests itself in the act of storing futons away by the day and replacing them by small tables. The space changes continuously, giving a transitory meaning to the objects in it.


A more 'western look' at the subject matter can be found from Petri Luukkanen's documentary My Stuff (2013). Luukkanen had filled up his life with objects that he thought would bring him happiness, but instead he felt empty inside. This prompted him to store all of his belongings into a storage space of ten square meters. In the winter, stark naked in his appartment, he started his one-year human experiment: for 365 days he wouldn't buy anything, but was allowed to retrieve one item back per day from the storage. Little by little he learned which belongings mattered the most, and that life was not all about collecting stuff.

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