Objects in a home – part 1
Our group of attendees of the Philosophies Course visit Louis in his temporary home, which is situated in the greenhouse at Färgfabriken. Together with his family, he has lived inside a public exhibition for two months. As part of his project presentation to us, Louis reads out loud two letters that describe the intention of this project. I close my eyes to better follow his words, and I find it hard to take in the dense information and lose hold of the words. When he finishes, I open my eyes again, and immediately I am captured by all the objects around me. The objects in this in-between space are demanding my attention. I wonder: where did they come from? In which new and old contexts do they live here now? How did they get here? Someone asks about all the plants in the greenhouse. They are from his backyard in Puerto Rico, Louis explains. Some plants look really strange and foreign to me. Other plants, like the basil and the peppermint are from Swedish supermarkets. I recognise the typical little black pots, about 50 of them. The herbs have grown three times the size of what one would expect to see in a kitchen. Even though the supermarket variation of herbs is not meant to last long, they have grown wild and big, reclaiming some of their natural plantness. Louis tells us that the construction of this home is, within a budget, sustainable. The beams are from Swedish pines and the installation framework will be donated after the exhibition is over, nothing goes to waste. I wonder what will happen to the smaller stuff? The home is filled with objects, piles of things sit on the kitchen table, the sink and inside the little rooms. The amount is quite astonishing to me, considering this space exists only for a limited period of time. Some objects are obviously not from Sweden but from a country which is exotic to me. They attract me with their thingness, their generous projection surface, and I feel free to attach to them. Other objects are very personal, marked by frequent touching, and it is hard to read their history or their meaning and function. They do not invite me into their world because they are closed and obviously occupied by Louis and his family.
These two categories of objects add to the picture of the creative artist. I am invited to see the artist’s mess. I begin to enjoy my role as a voyeur, which initially felt quite uncomfortable and forced upon me. I also notice a candlestick and a lampshade, typical Swedish design from renowned department stores. Most Swedes with a good income will have them in their homes, too. These objects facilitate relating to the situation, to Louis and his family. They make a big group of people feel at home in the exhibition which I imagine helpful for the family actual living here. Or does the effect make visitors feel too comfortable and maybe overextend their welcome?
Then, I am almost shocked, when I recognise kitchen utensils from Ikea. The presence of Ikea in this displayed home suddenly questions the ecological and holistic aspect of the project. Or does it make this home more believable because millions of people have objects from Ikea at their home? Now, the whole Western world together with China and Russia, can relate to the project. By including objects made from a multinational company in the project, everyone gets an entry point. Could this entry point be the secret most important part of this home project? I am still so enchanted by the exotic things, like the enormous, strangely-shaped carpet hanging in the entrance, that the contrast to the Ikea objects pulls me out of the romantic magic into an interesting, trivial space. This pull is a strong movement and suddenly the hanging carpet becomes a flying carpet. In this specific, unique constellation, the objects show their vibrant matter, as Jane Bennett calls it. Louis has assembled objects that move with Deleuzian speed and allow me to hang out with them for a brief moment. I wonder if Louis really put together these objects, or if the objects actually assembled Louis?

Objects in a home – part 2
The idea that objects have an agenda upon which they act and influence humans is a provocation to me and to most people to whom I talk about this. After an initial expression of “No, that’s not true; that’s crazy!” my dialogue partners are intrigued and want to know more. But here is the issue: I don’t know more, I can only pose questions, I do not have answers. I can only continue to wonder “what if?”. What if I only believe to be in charge of the objects around me? What if I am blind towards an active world of things? How can I ever know? Where could be the entry points into this world?
I find an entry point provided by George Bataille in his text The Notion of Expenditure. He describes a way we interact with objects, give and take. His example is a sacrifice of money in return for “sexual love” when buying a diamond necklace (p.170). He points out that the beauty of the stones is not sufficient to want them. It’s the sacrifice of a big amount of money that provides the right thrill. But one could also say that the stones actively give the excitement to the buyer. What then, does the object gain? Attention and energy. Something key is happening in this transaction. People have died to fulfil a transaction as mentioned in the example. Could an object be an author of such a compulsion? Looking at this from a different angle, I can state that the all-encompassing element in these scenarios is space. What if the objects were not to have an agenda and a will of their own but the space around them instead? Objects, animals and humans constantly change their position to each other and thus change their space. What if it is in fact space that exercises influence over us? What are the consequences of this scenario? What happens to the hierarchies between objects, humans and space?
Let’s go back to the example by Bataille and add some cheesy details to it: A man buys a diamond necklace for one million euros and gives it to his woman as a present. In return, he receives the thankful reassurance of his manliness as a strong provider as well as sexual attention for a month. She might never actually wear the necklace because it is too expensive, and instead store it in her safe. If the necklace had willpower of its own would it not want to be a bit cheaper, so that it will be admired in public often or be bought by a museum to be on permanent display? I am imposing a human value system on the necklace, when I think that if I were a diamond necklace, I would not want to live in a safe, neither would I want to be part of a transaction of this sort. If on the other hand the space around the actors had willpower then this show makes more sense to me. Why would the space want this transaction? What would it gain from it? Why is it the best solution? I imagine the space cares more about general harmony and less about the destiny of a single object. The goal might be to keep a peaceful relationship between a man and a woman. It might not actually care but react on voids and flows of energy, filling voids and keeping balance between different flows. But then again, non-human entities must have their own value system that I cannot even begin to imagine.
At this moment my partner crashes into my room to tell me that scientists have found Einstein’s gravitational waves. A ripple of space-time matter passed earth, and it was measured! That sounds as scientific as it sounds mysterious and I wonder if this is a crucial underlying part of my undertaking: Logic and mystery go nicely together if allowed to be. Which leads me to the following temporary conclusion: The change in perspective of who or what acts is an insightful but difficult thought construct. Logic and mystery together can lead the way towards interesting questions and answers, which might not present themselves in words but come along in unexpected forms.