The 17th century introduced the authentic fashion of the armoire. When France first designed this well-thought piece, it opened up a multitude of possibilities to arrange any room with style. Through the years, shapes and craved appearances developed, and further contemporary creations continued to engage with our desires within, and all throughout our homes. But how do we choose? How do we end up with a certain bookcase, or dresser? Even then, what pushes us to organize and fill them as we do, and with what?
The circumstances are, that a piece of furniture is a simple extension of who we are. Our desires come down to a science in our subconscious. Our instincts to hide away the essential exceeds beyond the ordinary. Every compartment becomes a hiding place for our past, as we hold on to the familiar objects that completes us in our entirety. When we single out a piece of furniture, we envision it in our home, a distinctive room; we have it filled up to its every brim before it is even on our way to us. We do not question ourselves, and our minds are constantly making decisions in advance. We seem to be undeniably programmed to find a place for everything that is dear to our hearts. Though we hardly ever reach for our hiding places, we wander endlessly through our days with the involuntary comfort that numerous treasures are kept intact, in a little corner or in a box, at the back of a dresser. The art of choosing our furniture goes back as far as the moment we embraced and favored an item over another. Every particle has its place, and we plant our history for generations to come.
Naturally, we go on without the concrete understanding of the complexity our boundless minuscule choices possess, though somehow, at a point in time, we stood in front of an object and allowed it to enter our lives. Evidently, we should not reason with the idea that our immediate atmosphere invariably shapes our lives, and as minimal as our preferences may seem, they still carve us into the unique individual we have become.
Choosing is an art, no matter how paramount the choice may be. This natural aptitude we continually carry is, in all actuality, underrated. An armoire is no longer just an armoire; it’s a passage to our future and a sanctuary for our past. It is its edges and architecture that envelops the branches of who we are at the core, but in material form. Like a shoebox made of gold to preserve the glass slippers. We pair up our memento that will, in one way or another, impeccably harmonize with the furniture we opt for.
Centuries ago, an individual constructed a box for us to fill; and today, in this instant, it is its framework and careful engineering that invaded my thoughts and awarded me the fascinating recognition of the art of choosing. The wonders that occupies every inches of my furniture releases a certain freedom of sedentary travels.
My choices. My art.