Apart from books, drunk memories and data, I am not much of a collector. I like to gather treasures and put them in a trinket box. Imagine my pleasure when I scored two cute porcelain jars for £3,50 at the charity shop. The possibilities ahead of me: where can I place them, what kind of souvenirs or things can I find to fill them? One could be for my jewellery (a grand total of 1 bracelet, 1 necklace, 6 pairs of earrings and 17 singles) and the other is an empty mystery.
The issue, to be truthful, is that I prefer to see everything. A pile of mess on my bedroom floor, post-it with notes all over the walls when I study, organised chaos all over the place. I guess I like to gather treasures and porcelain jars.
I follow a similar process to find inspiration to write this column (I made a deviation from a journal a while ago, something about vulnerability blah blah blah, but “column of a procrastinator” does not sound quite as good). I spend a lot of time looking around, literally my eyes are easily distracted, searching for that one thing that will inspire me. It’s been a bit dry lately. I blame myself for working on too many projects at the same time and dividing my creative brain between this and my top-secret project. Business baby.
As for trinkets, once I have an idea, I need it. I need to write it, I need to own it. I saw those little porcelain things behind the shop windows, after hours, and I went back FOUR days in a row because I was too impatient to read the summertime hours sign properly. I lack patience and I need everything immediately. This type of misadventure happens a lot more than I would like to admit as I rush through life with half of the information. You should see me assemble any IKEA furniture.
Ultimately collecting random objects and ideas forces me to slow down and feel the impressions it leaves on me. I love picking up one of my stuff, any stuff and appreciate why I bought it. Be it the delicate blue and gold flowers painted on the lid, seashells I picked on the Welsh beaches or the feeling of black velvet on my favourite piece of clothing. I like to look at pictures from an automaton in Berlin and remember how drunk my best friend and I were when we took it, or this picture I took in Ireland after a 40 km walk in the rain, crossing mountains. I still feel it.
As you may have noticed, I added a paywall. I will continue writing this column and HUNTER for free, but the archives are now behind a paywall. If you really really like it and would like to fund my next porcelain pots, please consider contributing.