I was kneeling on the cold floor, the kind of polished concrete that promises industrial chic but mostly just transmits dread, trying to figure out how $171 worth of ceramic vase looked utterly wrong next to the $41 bookends I’d bought on a frantic Tuesday. My hands were sticky with dust I hadn’t realized was accumulating under the latest wave of objects. It was a physical feeling, this emptiness-a heaviness that comes from owning too much that means too little.
“It felt like a performance. Every corner of the house was auditioning, trying to prove that *I* was interesting, or balanced, or minimalist, or maximalist, depending on which Pinterest board I’d consumed the night before. I realized I had become a professional space filler.”
I had become a professional space filler. My mission wasn’t to live well, but to eliminate negative space. And the tragedy? Despite all the effort, the house felt colder, less specific, and definitely less mine. It was a collection of mass-produced intentions, nothing more.
The Original Sin of Retail
I was staring at a miniature, abstract sculpture-a brass tangle that cost me $91-when the thought hit me: this object does nothing. Its sole function, the 1st and primary function defined by its existence, is to occupy a cubic foot of air and wait for compliments that never come.
Works perfectly
Aesthetically bland
Looks amazing
Zero utility
It’s the original sin of modern retail, isn’t it? Separating utility from aesthetic value, forcing us to buy twice-once for the thing that works, and once for the thing that looks like it works, but better.
AHA MOMENT: The Flawed Logic
I would criticize the generic quality, yet still leave with three things, convinced this time the perfect geometric throw pillow would deliver domestic bliss. The flaw in the logic is clear: it’s easier to spend $61 on a trendy piece than to admit you haven’t decided what story you want to tell.
The Financial Drain of “Filler”
This cycle of acquisition isn’t sustainable, financially or spiritually. I calculated recently that I had spent $2,011 over three years just on ‘decorative objects’-items that held no food, provided no light, offered no comfort, and performed no essential service.
Spend Breakdown (3 Years)
The moment the receipt was discarded, the magic vanished, and the object reverted to its original state: filler. That realization, frankly, was humiliating.
The Calibration Specialist: Zara D.
It took meeting Zara D., a machine calibration specialist, to really shift my perspective. When I visited her apartment, it was intensely utilized. Every single item had to justify its existence in multiple ways. The lighting fixtures were beautiful, complex pieces, yes, but they were specifically chosen for their exact light temperature and dispersion pattern, optimized for specific tasks.
“
If an object doesn’t solve at least two problems, it’s creating a third one: clutter.
– Zara D.
Clutter isn’t just mess; it’s visual and emotional noise, and it degrades the value of the items around it. If everything shouts for attention, nothing gets heard.
AHA MOMENT: Functional Art
This is where the soulful shift happens. You stop shopping for *decor* and start collecting *functional art*. The best objects dissolve the separation between ‘useful’ and ‘aesthetic.’
The New Criteria for Selection
Focusing on objects that serve a high purpose, not just high style, is incredibly liberating. It changes the entire criteria for selection.
?1: Will this object age well?
?2: Does it enrich the daily ritual?
HISTORY
Is it a piece of history I get to write with?
This philosophy drives places like Amitābha Studio, where pieces are meant to be handled, used, chipped, and ultimately, loved into permanent existence.
AHA MOMENT: Cost as Curator
The higher upfront cost of true functional art (built to last 101 years) forces curation. It imposes discipline. I buy one piece that matters, not twenty that don’t.
The Power of Necessary Absence
This is the painful lesson I learned when I finally packed away four large bins of non-essential decor. The air literally felt cleaner. The quiet space they left behind wasn’t emptiness; it was potential.
Bins Packed
Four large bins of non-essential filler.
Space Created
Objects could finally breathe and tell their story.
The objects I kept-a handmade wooden spoon, a heavy ceramic planter, the tarnished brass lamp that throws the exact shade of warm light I love-were all things I interacted with daily. They were companions, not just static props.
Spectators vs. Participants
We need fewer silent spectators and more active participants. We need objects that are worn down by use, not dust.
Defined only by appearance.
Defined by use and longevity.
The Dangerous Belief
If we keep surrounding ourselves with objects that have no purpose, we subtly train ourselves to believe that beauty itself is purpose-less, that it’s just surface. That’s a dangerous belief to carry into life.
Stop buying props for a life you haven’t started living.
Start collecting artifacts from the life you are actively building.