Combating Consumerism
As the leaves finish falling and the furnace pumps along my mind begins to crave that sweet time of year. A time when cinnamon and spice fill the air while the soft crackling of a fire sets the mood for the season.
But there’s one thing I can’t shake this year and it’s been dampening my mood. It’s not new, but this year I’m seeing how it has increased. That thing is consumerism.
There’s no doubt the Christmas season's commercialism has increased, accelerated by recent inventions making purchases as easy as a simple tap from the comfort of the couch.
The question I pose to you is, do you need that the thing your finger desperately hovers over, or is it simply lusting after the pleasurable experience? The satisfy click and ding followed by a magically appearing box on the doorstep.
The reality is we like buying new things. It’s fun to treat yourself, to show off that cool new tool or fancy pair of shoes you’ve always wanted after finding out they existed yesterday.
But as I put more effort into hand crafting furniture, thinking through details, cutting joints to fit seamlessly, I realize the effort that goes in to our surroundings provides a lasting pleasure.
I like making furniture and I have a goal to replace all of the furniture in my home with pieces I’ve made. Now that’s not exactly practical, we have a piano and I don’t think I can make a new one of those, but that’s okay because that piano falls into the category of lasting value.
This piano belonged to Roy, my wife’s grandfather. Roy liked to tinker and this particular piano saw much of his tinkering as it’s a player, but not a new school, digital player, an old school air pump player piano reading perforated rolls that signal the keys when to play.
The problem with analog devices is they tend to require maintenance to keep them going. Airlines clog, moving parts require lubrication and rubber rots requiring replacement. Roy loved fixing it up and keeping the old player going.
Every time that piano plays it’s a reminder of the craftsmanship that went into it’s making and Roy’s hard work to keep it going.
And that’s the case for the things I’ve made. I remember the stubborn assembly of my daughter’s bookcase and the mistake I made cutting the aprons of my display cabinet too so there wasn’t enough material for the tenons. Their presence is a reminder of the work that went into them, the struggles, the successes, and the learnings along the way. A representation of my growth as a craftsman.
Now you may not make furniture nor be able to appreciate all those minute details, but you can appreciate the effort that went into the things around you. The problem is when that thing was mass produced in a foreign country it’s meaning gets lost.
But what if you had things produced by someone in your community? Someone you now. Someone who asked you what you are looking for, who hand selected details you wanted in that piece, who went on a journey to create on your behalf.
All the sudden that object has greater meaning. It represents more than a transfer of money to get the thing you wanted, but an idea, a story, and hard work in an object you can appreciate for a lifetime.
So I guess this is my way of asking you to join me in supporting local businesses and craftspeople this holiday season. Find a jeweler or seamstress, a painter or glass blower, heck, even a woodworker. Go talk to them, put in the effort to buy a gift that means more than anything a click of a button could ever buy.