Between Function and Feeling
There are three types of objects in this world: the ones that serve a purpose, the ones that tell a story, and the ones that simply make us feel.
The first ones, with straight lines and a clear purpose, come from the Bauhaus school of thought. Efficient, no frills. They solve problems without drama—like the kind of person who gets up early, works hard, and leaves everything in place.
Then, there are the objects that speak. Like Starck’s juicer—it squeezes more conversations than lemons. These are metaphors in disguise: they provoke, they puzzle. Like that friend who makes you question everything, even alphabet soup.
And finally, the objects we treasure for no logical reason. A worn-out book, a one-eyed childhood toy, the chipped ceramic mug that tastes better than the rest. They don’t solve or provoke—they carry memories. They remind us who we were and what we hold inside.
A good friend of mine always says objects reflect society. He’s right. But they also reflect people. You, me—everyone.
Over the years, I’ve realized that I am my actions, my ideas... but also my emotions. I’m the one who works, the one who thinks, and sometimes, just feels.
And in that intersection between what’s useful and what’s beautiful, between what I do and what I feel, I find myself in my objects. The ones that work, the ones that inspire, and the ones that simply exist as quiet witnesses.
In the end, it’s those objects, in their stillness, that promise me a small slice of happiness.
