An Ode to Maximalism
By Maria Staack
Graphic by Jas Calcitas
All I want to do is pack up everything I own in a single suitcase and travel the world on an airtight budget. Right now, two things stand in my way, the first being a global pandemic and the second being my lifelong tendency towards maximalism. At some point, the pandemic will end, even if it seems like it won’t. Maximalism, however, is one beast I don’t know how to tame - not that I want to.
I love stuff. It doesn’t have to be expensive or particularly nice, I just love stuff. For example, my desk drawer contains several pamphlets given to me by people on the street, not because I got suckered into some advertising scheme, but because I thought the pamphlets had interesting fonts or pictures on them. I almost never immediately throw out packaging because of a fantasy that one day I’ll use all the boxes I’ve ever accumulated to make a really cool sculpture. I also still own materials for every craft I’ve ever failed at, in hopes that one day I might successfully pick up crocheting, or gardening, or painting. This seemingly bad hoarding habit recently afforded me the opportunity to learn how to juggle.
In the last week of my freshman year of college, I realized that my propensity for owning too much would come at great cost. I spent most nights of that week near or in tears as I didn’t know how I, a little 18-year-old girl, was supposed to fit the past eight months of my life into a couple of suitcases and storage bins. I had no car and no parents to pick me up. I ended up having to make some drastic sacrifices, the worst of which were my two pillow pets. It’s been a year and a half, and I still think about them. At times when I wish I could throw everything I own away and live a life unshackled by possessions, I remember my pillow pets.
Influencers like Kelly Stamps and Matt D’Avella, among others, make minimalist lifestyles seem so appealing. The idea of being able to pack up and move on a whim sounds awesome. A large part of me wants to abandon everything I know to embrace minimalism, but I can’t help my emotional attachment to everything I own. Not only that, but I find objects so inspiring. I like to think of my room as one large mood board, made up of all the objects I possess. These objects act both as an extension of myself and as their own agents, affecting me in numerous ways.
At this point, I’m only 20. I hardly know where I’ll be six months from now, let alone in ten years. Perhaps somewhere down the road my adventurous side will take over and I’ll abandon my maximalist life in favor of a single backpack and unknown travels. Although, judging from the fact that I haven’t gotten over a couple of pillow pets, I think I’ll eventually make my rightful return to owning too much for my own good. For now, I lie somewhere in the middle. As a seasoned college student, I’ve figured out how to fit my life into a couple of suitcases and storage bins, but only because I have to. I still own my fair share of ephemera and oddities, but only as many as I have space for.
In talking about maximalism, I must acknowledge the inherent lack of sustainability which the term implies. Although it initially seems so, I don’t believe maximalism and sustainability are mutually exclusive. Plants, for instance, could work their way into a maximalist lifestyle. I have also mentioned my affinity for keeping and potentially upcycling old things, like packaging, which would otherwise be recycled or thrown out. Plus, there are always ways to acquire objects second hand. Just as minimalism can take many forms, so too can maximalism.
While it may seem trendy to own only enough possessions to pack into one suitcase, I want to highlight the importance of objects: they can be transformative. I recently thrifted a new clock for my bedside table. It was only $6 and it prompts thoughts on several topics, from its mid-century modern design to more existential questions about time. I look forward to the day when I have my own space to pile high with eccentric items. Until then, I’ll rest easy in whatever temporary space I occupy with as much stuff as it will hold.