On economy of space - Written June 3

I'm sitting in my van at by beachfront campsite while a west coast storm rages outside. Rather than feeling claustrophobic and cooped up, I feel comforted and tucked in. I've been developing for a few months now this notion of economy of space. I like the idea of taking up less room on this rather crowded planet and of living in small but well-designed spaces. Of consuming and hoarding less, so that less space is needed to house the hoard. My van, although a little dated, is a great example of this.

In an interior space of about 4 meters long and less than 2 meters wide (exactly the stretch of my arms), I have a loungeroom with seating for 4, a dining room with the potential for excellent views, a complete and functional kitchen, a washbasin that doubles as a laundry tub, a comfortable bed, storage for the minimal objects I'm finding I need, a front porch, electricity, running water and a guest bedroom in the loft. And even 25 years since being built, this space of mine is still a comfortable home. It still works just as it was designed to because it was well-designed. And all this comfort and practicality is mobile.

Allow me to ramble my way to a point for a moment. Twenty-five years is a long time for a design to remain relevant, to remain sought-after. Here on the west coast, I've seen dozens and dozens of VW Westfalias cruising about. Not just camping mind, but in towns and cities as well. It appears that the done thing if you own a Westfalia is to wave at other Westfalia drivers when you pass them on the road. I love this. I don't think though, that Westfalia fans amount to a cult following. Cult followings of products generally involve a love of an image of an object and an overlooking of inherent design and functional flaws. I think that Westfalia owners are followers because of the inherant practicalities of the design.

Think about this for a second as I finally make my way to my point: How many designs remain relevant 25 years on? How many of the objects and products being designed today will have relevance 25 years from now? Will be sought after not for their impractical cult value but for their functionality and the pleasure brought by their use? The problem is that we design for aesthetic and for immediacy more than we design for practicality and longevity. What results are objects that are shiny and new enough to attract our attention, but so semi-functional or just plain awkward to use that their use isn't pleasurable. They don't become part of our routine or part of our identity. As a result, we discard them or store them away in ever-increasing closets and spaces. Consumption of a well-designed, practical but still beautiful object leaves a feeling of satisfaction and of contentment.

Conversely, the brief consumption of an object that is destined not to become part of a routine but part of a storage space leaves a hollow feeling. Almost like having been deceived. And so the cycle continues.

So what does all this mean for me and my van? It means that I am content to occupy and to enjoy my small, enduringly designed space for the duration of my trip. I already feel sad to know that come fall, I will have to sell this space. I've already developed that sense of attachment to this particular object. It has already found its way into my identity. But I'm determined to take this lesson with me back to my life in Brisbane. I will seek out a small, well-designed space in which to live. One with a shared laundry because there really is no point in dedicating an entire laundry space to one person. One with a small courtyard or patio so that I can grow things. One with a minimal of wasted space and with not too many closets. One that is close to the places I need to go on a regular basis so that I will drive less. I realise all this will be difficult to find in Brisbane with its leanings towards big, sprawling, individual spaces. I want an element of communalism.

And I will fill my space only with those objects that I feel an attachment to. I will reconsider and ultimately reduce my consumption, so as to avoid cluttering up my small space with empty objects.

If you've stayed with me this long on my journey to a point, thank you.