Steed is the first offering of the Guest House Collective project. It is a lamp made out of a rectangular metal frame on which embroidered linen hangs. Twisted red wire matches the embroidery and connects the light source to a simple switch and plug.
The inspiration for this piece and the project itself came from a lamp I encountered while doomscrolling through Pinterest. Created by the talented Amelie Maison, the lamp was a bit smaller than mine, with a black wire frame and a simpler embroidered coral design. It also had a price tag of $856.96 (it has since been sold). While the pricing of artwork is a discussion that I a. have very little experience with and b. have very little interest in discussing, it was nonetheless well out of my price range.
So, despite my best efforts to convince myself that I didn’t have time for another project, I decided that I would create my own version. I hadn’t ever built a lamp nor worked with much wiring. However, I was armed with optimism or ignorance, your pick. Weeks and quite a bit of experimenting later, Steed now sits beside my bed, casting a soft glow that pairs beautifully with the other lights in my bedroom.
The distinctive element of the lamp is the embroidered linen panels. One of the things I have grown to love about embroidery is its meditative quality. Apart from the occasional accidental poke of the needle, I found myself in a quiet reflection as my hands became used to the consistent rhythm of up, down, up, down. That itself is a gift. How often do we afford ourselves the opportunity of mediation and reflection?
I found embroidering before bed helped calm my mind, so it became a habit in the evenings to pick up where I had left the night before. A recurring thought during these stretches of silence centered on the soul of the things we surround ourselves with. By soul, I mean the emotional weight and level of connection we have with objects. Interestingly, the things I value most and perceive as having more “soul” are often not valuable in a monetary sense or even initially perceived as having this type of emotional connection.
I know I’m not the only one. Each of us has those objects that carry a weight beyond their physical value. For instance, I have a red baseball cap I wear constantly. It is stained and worn despite repeated washing. To me, this hat’s value comes from its history and source. My Pops gave it to me a few years back after buying it more than 15 years ago. When I wear it, I carry a little piece of him with me. I wouldn’t sell it for any amount of money.
Another example can be found in the creation of this lamp. While I didn’t keep an exact log of how many hours I spent researching materials, teaching myself embroidery and basic wiring, or putting everything together, it was definitely an investment. Throughout the process, and now that the piece is completed, I have a significant emotional attachment to it and feel that it has a “soul.”
Based on these examples, there seem to be two general categories of creating emotional attachment or imbuing an object with soul. The first is soul created through an object’s story. In the case of my baseball hat, this is its connection to my dad. Alternatively, the second category is through the creation of an object. Steed carries more weight because of the time I spent creating it. I embroidered every stitch and know what it took to make it.
Companies, particularly now, during the chaotic winter season of buying and selling, try to imbue products with this type of emotional connection. Indeed, isn’t that the primary goal of marketing? They recognize that function in itself often isn’t enough. People need to need what they’re selling. People need an emotional connection.
As I pondered this, a verse from a song came to mind:
Don't like your choices of art on the walls, but I don't say it
It just feels unromantic to buy a painting at 3AM on the internet
Like, "What's the story with this?"
"Well, I was anxious and I couldn't sleep so I bought some shit"-Someone Else’s Home, JP Saxe
Regardless of one’s music taste, I think the artist identifies a place many of us have found ourselves in, buying things to create an emotional response or as a distraction from an emotion. While emotional connections can be formed with something purchased, the act of purchasing simply can’t do that.
During this season and others, I invite you to ponder on what things really matter to you and how you can be more selective in the objects you bring into your spaces. I also invite you to get creative, even if the thing you create doesn’t sell for $856.96.