weekly Go Flip Yourself

Objects that expose their “marks of making”, or artifacts of how they were constructed, are a reminder that everything is made. Nothing simply appears. In a time when most people are wholly detached from making anything they consume, it’s easy to lose sight of that fact. I’m not necessarily lamenting this disconnect, but I appreciate any design which reminds us (whether intentionally or not) that it was made.

The conception of well-being as value-fulfillment is solid enough to ground us in reality, but rich enough to point us towards a life that is about far more than simply staying fed, clothed, sheltered, and alive. Yes, we pursue health, longevity, and comfort—values which are directly provided by material progress. But we also seek meaning and personal fulfillment: a career that uses our talents and does good in the world; loving relationships with friends and family; the enjoyment of art and music; an understanding of our place in the universe. And we seek self-actualization: the full exercise of our skills and abilities, regardless of whether this is needed for any practical end.

In the 1860s, Charles Baudelaire bemoaned what we might now call doomscrolling:

Every newspaper, from the first line to the last, is nothing but a tissue of horrors. Wars, crimes, thefts, licentiousness, torture, crimes of princes, crimes of nations, individual crimes, an intoxicating spree of universal atrocity.

And it’s this disgusting aperitif that the civilised man consumes at breakfast each morning … I do not understand how a pure hand can touch a newspaper without a convulsion of disgust.