One lamp that I had when I was 7 (and kept until I started high-school) was one of those artsy spider-like bouquet floor lamps (similar to the picture below, although mine had six lights, and they were all in white). The stems were extremely malleable, so you could bend the lights in every which way. In fact, I often did change the lamp’s appearance. I was obsessed with redecorating and re-arranging. The lamp tended to fit in a corner, where I would either direct the lights outward and toward the wall to make an epic spidery effect, or keep some bending down to highlight things like a collection of dolls or my child sized drum set.
- photo from Home Decor - This lamp had a shiny silver metallic stand, and cone shaped shades over halogen-bright bulbs. It gave my room the feel of a gallery or an art showroom. The shades were matte and pure white. At the time for me, this lamp was the very essence of design; it screamed cutting-edge and 'modern art'.
This lamp was something that I can remember every part of, because it was one of the first pieces that I owned that made me really look at the design of the things around me. Because it was so customizable, I got to play a part in the overall look of the lamp and the light that is created. This made me think about and put effort into design in a way that I hadn't before.
To me, it is meaningful that I can remember this lamp so well. We all have objects that we will never forget, because they defined who we are or were at the time. Feeling like an object is an extension of us is part of why consumerism prevails. It is enjoyable to attach ourselves to objects and to add them to our family. Giving up that lamp was actually hard for me to do when the time came. It is worth noting that the way our attachments to objects can grow over time directly opposes our need to continuously dispose of objects as they wear out, break, or become outdated.
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