Slow Time & Space Carving
Slow Time & Space Carving
A BookSnailMail Interlude
But First, Writing
A dream come true! I had a short humor piece come out in McSweeney’s Internet Tendency last Friday. Read it here.
Space Carving
A symptom of reaching my late 20s is a desire to stake a corner of our slowly warming Earth for myself. To call it mine (while I still can). I want a place that embodies my spirit, a sanctuary of sorts. I want something to fiddle with, and tweak it into perfection. I want a home to engulf me.
Perhaps part of this desire comes from my identity as a first-generation Indian-American. My family are now home-owners, but their concept of ownership seems vastly different than my own. Home ownership helped them establish a sense of permanency in a new country. Perhaps it made them feel that this country was more their own. It was also, in large part, a manifestation of their economic mobility. We moved often in my childhood, buying larger houses when we could afford them, and renting out the smaller ones until we were ready to sell. This is a privilege of course, but it also made the notion of home ephemeral. The objects in our home were rarely investment pieces. The furniture was not sentimental. We did not collect art. It was a living quarters first and foremost. It was highly functional, and my best description of it would be “cozy.” Now inching towards retirement, my parents have created an elaborate garden in their backyard and have built more exciting nooks in the home (for example, they installed a porch swing in our green room and my dad converted a bedroom into a room-size desk.) I guess they have found their own version of nestling, which I want too.
One of my favorite authors, Akwaeke Emezi, has an INCREDIBLE home in New Orleans. In their memoir Dear Senthuran, they talk a lot about what this space meant to them and the painstaking effort of crafting it. Yes, their home is a work of art. I used to imagine if I bought a home, then it would be mine. Emezi’s words helped me understand that owning a space does not yet make it *yours*. Carving a space of our own requires a slow accumulation of desired object: a sacrosanct process, gratingly unrushable. I suppose that’s why home renovation, when done correctly, requires inordinate amounts of money and patience. It is a perpetual liminal space; a place coming into being. Emezi’s home has so much character that it is has a name and persona (Shiny the God House). They made the space based on their needs as an ogbanje.
I am not yet in a place in life where I can settle permanently into a space. Also, according to Fortune, I have aged into the housing market at the worst time possible. That doesn’t mean I can’t plan ahead. In fact, perhaps the dreaming phase is the first step of home-crafting. At this point, I would rather think about functions of space rather than specific objects. Who knows what will be trendy years from now when I am ready to own a home? So, here is the first draft of a home I dream of:
A conversation pit - I am obsessed wit the concept of a super-customized and super-comfy space that is made for bonding. I love hosting friends over, and I would love to have a central hub where my guests could sit, eat, and splay.
A custom kitchen - hngghghhhggggghhhh I like these kitchens SO much it hurts. I want to craft a kitchen as a centerpiece for family gathering. Home cooked meals are huge in my family, so I know this is a space that would get a lot of use.
Cozy bookshelves - Here is one thing I am already well into the process of creating. I want an amazing collection of books: hyper-curated, the best editions, museum-worthy. I haven’t actually seen shelved staged in a way that I love enough to emulate, but I will continue dreaming of the possibilities as I cuddle the books I own.
Some more thoughts on space carving:
I am big on the idea of a tabula rasa when it comes to home renovations, I am hardly sentimental about most objects in my home (other than art and books). For now, I try to declutter and donate things that no longer serve a purpose. A fresh slate is my way of ushering in new seasons. Here is the New Yorker’s guide on how to do this.
I love this room - I am trying to think of what elements of it I love. The velvet? The lush colors? While it’s impossible to replicate a space, I am excited to replicate the pieces that caught my eye. (oh, here is one more good one)
When planning a dream home, the outdoors matters as much as the interior. One day, I will manifest the garden/swimming pool/yard of my dreams. For now, an easy way to spruce up the outdoors is with a funky door mat.
Book Recs - Coffee Table Edition
The coffee table is prime real estate to showcase personality traits via books. Here are three on my wishlist:
Black Food by Bryant Terry - oh my, the graphic design on this cover makes me weak in the knees. Also, the recipes are lovely. You could host a dinner party with recipes from the book, and have the book out? Just an idea.
Higuchi Yuko Artworks - I am OBSESSED with the whimsical, delicate, and sometimes disturbing animal portraits by this Japanese artist. They are SO inspiring whenever I need to think of something weird or surprising to talk about in my own writing.
Fleabag: The Scriptures - One Nation, under Phoebe Waller-Bridge.
Readings on My Mind
Early modern Wordle?? We love art that leaves us something to decipher.
Have you watched Nope yet? I haven’t but I NEED to.
I did watch Wedding Season and Marcel the Shell With Shoes On recently and they were great, each in their own ways.
Ugh, Zoom fatigue is real
Just a short story that made me weep (“Loser” by Aimee Bender)
It was my friend Letti’s bday last week and she wrote this. Highly rec for *intellectual* Italian summer vibes (and an interrogation on xenophobia)
This fun(-ish) piece on why everyone seems to have IBS
I loved this line, “A prevailing irony of IBS discourse is that the syndrome’s growing visibility is attributed not to its correlation with economic injustice and disordered eating, but to a triumphant wellness rhetoric of “reclaiming” or “normalizing” bowel function — usually that of the female body…..The cultural rise of IBS also makes sense in the context of wellness and body positivity — it’s no longer kosher to insist that “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” Women are supposed to love themselves too much for that. Instead they have to declare that they shit their pants if they eat gluten or dairy, so that abstention from those foods is seen as an act of self-care, and not disordered eating. Instead of choosing not to eat, people with IBS just can’t. “
I have yet to watch the documentary, but I am so ready for Victoria’s Secret to get its judgement day, since, you know, it judged US for long enough. How VS created the fantasy American Woman
Some good book lists:
Some ideas for what to read for Women in Translation Month (from my friends at Ad Astra)
What to read when in search of Eastern European Mythologies