STYLE VERSUS SUBSTANCE

All this simplifying and editing has made me wonder about the quality equation and the importance of beauty. If I don’t own much, does what I own need to be worth owning? (Clearly yes, or why own it at all? But that’s being a bit too flippant).

At the end of last year, I was hunting for a new diary. As usual, I had my heart set on the one that was sold out in Europe, which I was nonetheless trying to track down from somewhere. During my ultimately fruitless search, I had a conversation with a colleague about the importance of the right diary. We were agreed our diaries had to be beautiful, without ever asking ourselves why. Surely it’s more important for a diary to contain the most relevant information and enough space for a hectic schedule than to have a pretty cover? Surely that would be the sensible person’s simple route to the right diary?

So via a couple of random Google links, this train of thought eventually pulled into a station of Shaker philosophy and the question of quality over quantity and style versus substance.

Shaker design is famous for elegant utility – they worked on the principle that "That is best which works best" and that "Beauty rests on utility.” These are nice, simple, clear concepts that go a long way to explain the finished products, but I came across two more Shaker dictums that really intrigued me in my current efforts to simplify.

The first is that you should "Do your work as though you had a thousand years to live and as if you were to die tomorrow."

And the second is If it is not useful or necessary, free yourself from imagining that you need to make it. If it is useful and necessary, free yourself from imagining that you need to enhance it by adding what is not an integral part of its usefulness or necessity. And finally: If it is both useful and necessary and you can recognize and eliminate what is not essential, then go ahead and make it as beautifully as you can."

These seem to be pretty good principles for a simplist to live by (or at least edit by). When I trained in film and narrative structure, it was drummed into us that every scene and every sequence needs to move the story on, whether by exploring a theme or setting up the next plot twist, everything had a purpose and must be placed so as to best serve the narrative. Is it so impossible to extend that into my life?

Granted, anyone’s life has multiple concurrent narratives going on all the time. That’s what makes us busy, rounded humans. But is that multiplicity of personas, the complexity it engenders, actually necessary? Or is it possible, however unpalatable, that a lot of what we have going on is fluff, window-dressing, a way to avoid the fact that what most us live is an unexamined life. Socrates would not be impressed.

So, if what little I own must be fit for purpose, then by Shaker principles, it should be as beautiful as possible. Quality over quantity, which only costs more in the short term. The confusion arises between quality and style. Or, to be more cynical and accurate, between style and fashion. We pay over the odds for designer labels, but what we get isn’t style, it’s fashion. It’s surface, not substance, because the nature of fashion is to change.

So to live a simple life, we have to buy into style over fashion, substance over style and, of course, quality over quantity.  Which brings me back to my diary. In the end, in an effort to stop wasting my time, I chose a different one. Not as beautiful, but stylish enough. I’ve made a note for next year – start diary-shopping earlier.

SAVE ONLY PLENTY

“It seems man can cope with anything nature throws at us, save only plenty” – Steinbeck, Travels with Charley

Is this the problem we have in the Western industrialised world? That life is too easy, the struggle for survival just a phrase we hear on nature programs and charity appeals?

Darwin’s theory of evolution is often paraphrased as “survival of the fittest,” which is an oversimplification, but at least lets us believe we understand it. Unfortunately, we seem have been misspelling it for quite some time now. Capitalism and commercialism work because they play on our hard-wiring for survival – we want to be the fittest (fattest, richest) – so we focus on wealth and possessions as the measure of our fitness to survive. Capitalism may have proved it’s more in tune with human nature than communism or socialism, but that doesn’t mean it’s doing us any tangible good.

When Steinbeck went on his second great American road trip in the 1960s, he was repeatedly disappointed with the progress of his country, not so much because of the progress itself, but because of the increasing homogenization of the previously differing accents and dialects of the regions, and the increasing waste and lack of respect for both people and things he saw as a side effect of the increased standard of living. This was many decades after Thoreau made pretty much the same point in Walden Pond, which remains the acknowledged work on the subject of simplifying and the natural life.

In the U.K, The Good Life was making the point back in the 1970s – that we are too dependent on big agribusiness and multi-national corporations in our urban commercial culture. This we know, if only because the interlocked international banking system proved the point in its recent spectacular crash and ensuing crisis.  If we import all our food, we are hostage to the first blockade. If we import all our power – petrol, oil, natural gas – we are hostage to Russia's power squabbles with ex-Soviet countries, to every new twist in the ongoing attrition in the Middle East, every coup in oil-rich regions of Africa. It makes us very vulnerable to international political and economic breezes. So surely, the obvious course for wisdom and long-term survival is to decrease our dependence on imports?

It seems an impossible ask on the individual level, because what can one person do against the status quo and government policy? We can simplify our own lives, opt out of the “survival of the fattest” by buying less, consuming less, owning less and above all wanting less. Bruce Lee, perhaps, put it best when he said that what matters “is not the daily increase, but the daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential.” Okay, so his philosophy is not what he's famous for, but that doesn't make it any less valid.

I admit I'm having trouble hacking away at the unessential.  It's hard to cease desiring, to stop buying into as powerful a status quo as our material world. After all, we can't opt out of living in it. There are so many things I can see a place for in my life, but they're not necessary as I have a biological imperative to be the fattest/fittest, I also have a biological tendency to lethargy – in survival terms, the less we do, the more energy we conserve when we need it. So I'm going to try giving in to that – stop expending energy on wanting and acquiring, and conserve it to be spent on doing, on experiencing. Because in the end, I think I'm far more likely to regret not doing far more than we'll regret not possessing.

And if that means I have to make do and mend or do without, I'm certain Steinbeck was right, and I will cope admirably with all adversity, save only if I give in to plenty.

MINIMALISM = SIMPLICITY... RIGHT?

I am not a minimalist, but I do seek simplicity. How the hell is that possible? Isn’t it splitting hairs? Isn’t it making life overly complicated to differentiate? Which would be exquisitely ironic, if nothing else. (And how ridiculous of me, to seek simplicity when I work in an industry that thrives on the complicated - plots, shots, sets, effects and logistics – all to make something that has no material existence at all now everything’s digital).

However, just because complicated unreality pays my bills doesn’t mean I have to seek it out of the office. So I looked up both minimalism and simplicity in the Oxford Dictionary, just to see if I had the glimmerings of a point.

Minimalism:

1 a movement in sculpture and painting which arose in the 1950s , characterized by the use of simple, massive forms.

2 an avant-garde movement in music characterized by the repetition of very short phrases which change gradually, producing a hypnotic effect.

3 deliberate lack of decoration or adornment in style or design

Simplicity, on the other hand, is defined as:

1 the quality or condition of being easy to understand or do

2 the quality or condition of being plain or uncomplicated in form or design

3 a thing that is plain or uncomplicated

Okay, so the definitions overlap a bit, especially when it comes to design. But that’s not to say that minimalism is simply the extreme or fundamentalist form of simplicity. A simple kitchen has a couple of sharp knives and a peeler. A minimalist kitchen has one multi-purpose gadget from JML that chops and peels and probably minces and mixes as well. (Some people will argue about this. It’s my blog, purposes of understanding what I’m on about, my definition goes. Okay? Glad we sorted that out).

Minimalism as a life goal takes simplicity to a whole new level at which it can actually turn out to be quite complicated. I am seeking to de-complicate my life, so I will stick to the sharp knives and separate peeler, thank you, and not spend my money with JML. (Partly because spending money = broke = very complicated life, at least until payday).

After all, multi-functional isn’t necessarily more efficient. Multi-tasking is something we’ve all developed, but I don’t know

I suppose you could call it a Shaker approach, as per their dictum: “Don’t make something unless it is both necessary and useful; but if it is both necessary and useful, don’t hesitate to make it beautiful.”

The trick, which I’m still working on, is figuring out what is both necessary and useful in the context of a modern, urban life in a commercial society. When I do work it out, this blog will be the first to know.

So if simplifying is taking an Occam approach, then where does that leave the iLife? If I have an iPhone, does that mean my iPod is no longer useful or necessary (probably not necessary, if I’m honest). What about my camera? Does a laptop with high storage capacity obviate the need for DVDs, CDs and books? Does the Cloud mean my laptop’s hard drive is no longer strictly necessary, or just that its size is no longer so relevant? How much do I double up on gadgets and things in my life? Is there a genuine argument for doing so?

Sometimes. Summer and winter clothes. Seasonal changes, differing activities and purposes. Like everybody else, I am very good at justifying my possessions. Probably too good. It comes of living in a consumer society, where shopping is a leisure activity, and even in these straitened times we can tell ourselves we’re “doing our bit for the economy” by keeping the money going around and around. And that’s the trouble. Our economies are based on the circulation of money, on the requriement that money moves. The crash came because the money stopped moving. Debtors defaulted, investors kept hold of their cash as they didn’t see a return for them, banks stopped lending because they’d run out of money and the debtors were defaulting... The money halted and the system juddered to a standstill. Governments attempted to prop it up, but bits are still falling off all over the place. (You already know all this).

The going has got tough. So surely we should all imitate the bumper sticker and go shopping? Go be my guest, I won’t join you. Unless it’s something I actually need…. Which is where that pernicious power of justification comes in.

So: the rules are changing. If it’s not essential, like food, then it must be replacing something that needs replacement, like clothes, or serve a particular purpose for which nothing I currently own would be suitable. I don’t have an example yet, but I am absolutely sure I’ll find one soon. Probably something expensive as well.

The idea is to end up with some space in my cupboards, on my bookshelves, some time freed up from things I don’t need or want to do, and a closet containing clothes I can and do wear. So far I’ve not been very good at it, but it’s a work in progress. Insulating myself from destitution, should my job vanish and not reappear, is a potential perk if I can get this right.

The idea is to end up with what I actually use and need and want to be comfortable, with none of the complicated and extraneous bits and pieces and mental fluff that takes up too much time and effort and results in this urge to jack it all in and go riding.

Simplicity, not minimalism. Knife + peeler, not one fancy complicated mulit-functional gizmo. And I guess hard drive, not the Cloud. It’s simpler, after all.

SIMPLECITY

Urban is a complicated world, with complex systems and even more complicated technology. There’s so much going on all the time, we feel like we’re constantly on the go, trying to catch up with ourselves. But Urban is man-made. We do this to ourselves. We’ve created this elaborate construct and called it society. We work at things that very often aren’t real (or at least aren’t materially real or necessary for basic survival) for a shared dream called money that we invented as a comparative and common measure for worth, for value. Why did we bother to complicate our lives so much?

Was it, and more to the point, is it, really necessary? Especially as it seems we’re not any happier than we used to be.

This blog is about simplifying in the complicated urban context most of us live in. I should clarify from the start that I am not a minimalist, but Occam and Newton were right  - “It is futile to do with more things that which can be done with fewer.” (Occam. Newton wrote in similar terms about not looking for more causes than actually necessary to create the effect you’re trying to explain).

I’ve always been a city girl. I live in London and work in the industry I always wanted to work in. I am not against modern technology, I definitely see the attraction of the “iLife” and storing my entire business and entertainment on a laptop, my wardrobe in a carry-on.

A few months ago I was overcome by a feeling of restlessness and discontent. Trying to pinpoint the origin of this dissatisfaction led me to question everything about my urbanite lifestyle.

The fact is that it’s often the smallest moments, the simplest things that make or break a day. And yet… in our largely urban world, we seem to spend an awful lot of time pursuing the complex, and complicating every step we take.

When the unshakeable feeling of discontent first struck me, I couldn’t just go out and buy all my dreams, so I started to question them instead. It was the obvious solution, after all. I needed to figure out what was really important to me, so I decided to strip my life down to see which absences I missed. I started to simplify, to edit my life.

ANYTHING GOES – WHY NOT START WITH CLOTHES?

I started with clothes, because, if I’m honest, I had no idea where else to start. Thoreau believed we should “beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes” and like most women, my cupboard was full of nothing to wear. I once heard of a cinematographer who owned nothing but 2 identical pairs of blue jeans, 10 white t-shirts, a pair of boots, a suit jacket and a leather jacket (both black). I’m guessing he owned underwear and socks as well, but even so – what a wonderfully simple wardrobe, and how easy to decide what to wear in the morning. If you have no choices, you can’t waste time deciding, and you get to sleep in. It sounds good to me, but like most city women, I have too many roles to play to limit my wardrobe so severely. The trouble most of us run into is that we either don’t think about those roles enough and impulse buy clothes we never wear, or we think about them too much and go shopping every time we do. And we fall into the fashion trap of wishfully thinking new clothes will somehow change us. Yes, that trap keeps the money going round, but it doesn’t really solve anything.

“If there is not a new man, how can the new clothes be made to fit? … we should never procure a new suit, however ragged or dirty the old, until we have so conducted, so enterprised or sailed in some way, that we feel like new men in the old, and that to retain it would be like keeping new wine in old bottles. Our moulting season, like that of the fowls, must be a crisis in our lives.” Thoreau may be a little extreme on this one, but the point is valid – what we wear doesn’t change who we are even if it changes people’s first impression of us. Right up until we open our mouths.

            If I haven’t got my wardrobe down to a single carry-on yet, I’ve at least got it down to a single suticase, and I’m working on the rest of my life.

            In a sense, clothes are the easiest place to start – most of us have done a closet clearout before. We know the questionnaire for it, as it were: how many garments do I actually need for work? For weekends? For going out? For the gym? For specific activities? Which items can multi-task? It’s a bit like packing for a trip, except that you have to take the logistics of laundry into account, instead of how many days you’d be away.

            The clearout is the easy part. The hard part is preventing yourself from making a list of things you still “need” and then going shopping. Again. I may be the only person in Britain who’s glad VAT’s gone up. So far it’s served as an effective reason not to visit the January sales.