Autumn
Antique Buddha Statue
Phnom Penh, Cambodia, 2020, copper, height: 5”
Adorned with beads and pearls collected from my journeys worldwide, this small Buddha statue has watched over me since I left home in late 2020. I am neither religious nor sentimental, yet this relic has given me a sense of security since I moved to the United States. A graduation gift from my mother, the statue at first seemed relatively mundane. Growing up in Asia, I saw the face of Buddha everywhere. I recall graduation day, running my fingers along its patinaed grooves, wishing the dull turquoise would be transmuted into a vibrant gold. It was not until I left my home that I realized my naivete. The United States was not what I expected. I found solace in the form of my Buddha statue. Its aged exterior and rough finish, once an eyesore, became an image of resilience and strength. Like me, it stood out — an aberration belonging to an unknown land and a foreign religion. What I had deemed a mark of conformity became a symbol of individualism. The statue offered a reconciliation for my diverse past and helped me find pride in my identity. — Lucas D.
Malibu Coaster
Ranch at the Pier, Malibu, California, Unites States, circa 2017, ceramic, width: 4”
What memories stain your mind? The stains on this coaster remind me of my journey over the last few years. Each mark reveals a part of me, the parts of me that worked so hard to get to where I am. The coffee stains reflect my sleepless nights and my tiresome mornings. The pencil marks reveal my craft and the messiness of my creations. Much like this motorcyclist on the coaster, we are continuously moving. It is not just our past that determines who we are but what we make of ourselves in the present that forms our entire story. In the same way, the drinks I choose to place on this coaster will continuously mold its character. I no longer drink coffee so I will not be creating any more dark brown ring stains. I am excited to see how my choices blend and change me and my coaster. — Alexis R.
Pearl Earrings
New Paltz, New York, United States, circa 1900, silver, pearl, height: 2”
Do you like them? I remember the rush of adrenaline when I found these earrings in an antique market in New Paltz, New York. The swarm of vendors and bustling shoppers drained my ability to keep track of every item that I passed. Overwhelmed, I gave up on finding much. But when I stopped at a table manned by an older woman with pink and untidy hair, I found my earrings. The thin, elegant silver wire with a delicate pearl at the end immediately caught my eye and I fell in love. I held them up to my ear and gathered my friends to ask for their opinions. “Do you like them?” Preoccupied with their own finds, they did not offer the enthusiastic validation I sought, making me wonder whether I liked the set at all. I never thought of myself as someone who could be so easily swayed by the opinions of others. I am glad I was not on that day. After 20 minutes of closely observing the earrings, I purchased them. I have rarely taken them off since. — Madeleine J.
Saybridge Loveseat
Macy’s Martha Stewart Collection, 2000s, wood, velveteen, height: 40”
This loveseat surprised me. Tall, proud armrests sit upright at 90-degree angles, colliding with deep, wide seat cushions which gently coerce people together as they sink in. Plopping down here after a long day is akin to sliding into a hot tub. Arms up, outstretched around the parameter, I fall into its embrace as the weight of the day lifts from my shoulders. In a social setting, there is a certain uniqueness about the body language of this pose, the interaction it affords — opening one’s arms to what conversation has to offer while remaining at ease with one another, and ourselves. There is nothing to hide here. This sturdy tub-like shape has carried me through a multitude of these circumstances. Armrests become seatbacks, knees become tables, and a casual dinner date ensues. Maybe more people join in, and now the arms act as seats themselves — a temporary daybed even given good enough balance. This ensures a level of comfort between each person, a willingness to maximize the purpose of this appliance, to maximize closeness. Silently waiting, the loveseat orchestrates these shared moments. — Roger V.
Decorative Bindis
Vividha, Mumbai, India, 2005, felt, plastic jewels, glue, and wire, height: 3/16” (individually)
Every time I place a bindi delicately between my eyebrows, I look at myself in the mirror and cannot help but smile, as I am transported back to my five-year-old self. Growing up in the Midwest, I never really had an outlet to express my culture in my daily life. On the weekends, it was a whole other world since I was able to meet my tight-knit community of Indian friends. We would all get ready together and wear our colorful outfits to every function, with the last touch always being a small shiny bindi. Over the years, I have grown into my Indian American identity, and since I would be away from home, I thought that these bindis were something important to bring with me when I left for college. Now when I wear a bindi, it is one of the only times that I can be that little girl again. She reminds me to always be proud of who I am and to shine in this world no matter what. — Nirali S.
Black Plastic Comb
circa 2000, plastic, length: 7”
In the silent moments of my morning routine, I find guidance when I hold my grandfather’s comb. This humble object, unexpectedly left to me, has been a daily companion in my life and a symbol of placidity in a world that seems to always shift.
As its plastic bristles weave through my hair, memories slowly flood of the countless times he carefully styled his hair. I recall the diligent way he would part his silver strands, each stroke an expression of personal pride and confidence. This grooming ritual, I realize now, was a silent conversation to himself, a speechless dialogue my grandfather engaged in every morning. The comb, now occupying a spot on my sink, is a tangible reminder of my grandfather’s wisdom and teachings. This seemingly ordinary object, a testament to him, assures me that life’s obstacles can be tamed, much like the unruly strands of hair that it untangles each day. — Benjamin M.
“Michael,” a.k.a. Ferrarius the Iron Armor Dragon
Mega Brands Inc., Montreal, Quebec, Canada, circa 2005 C.E., plastic, length: 9’’
If I set Michael in front of my keyboard with those silver wings raised and his crooked teeth bared, you bet I am working double time. He has 12 claws for shredding (faces, not guitars), two wings for flying, and zero shits for giving. He is a warrior of the Metal Ages toy line, unleashed upon the world in 2005 to cleanse the toy store shelves of all mediocre dragons.
On my 20th birthday, Michael was retired to a slow life at my desk after suffering a devastating chipped talon. In exchange for my stewardship, he oversees my homework sessions and ensures my personal success. Nothing is more motivating than his forever-furrowed brow glaring in my direction. After all, Michael is not a toy, but a war machine clad in plated armor and terrible reptilian wrinkles. While I may have searched the dark depths of eBay to relive my childhood, Michael has not granted me a fleck of nostalgic relief since his arrival. Instead, he has become my imaginary boss — demanding me to grow up once more. — Hailey G.
Italian Leather Belt
Vera Pelle, Via Melito Centro, Italy, circa 2010, leather, metal, length: 48”
I am not very nice to belts. They come into my life in various ways: dollar bin finds, birthday presents from family I do not talk to anymore, some borrowed for so long that they become gifts. Either way, I have a nasty habit of not caring about them. This belt is a strange, unknowing exception, its individually woven strips fraying from a waist that bulged out then sunk in unhealthily fast. It saw years of use in a dress code I could not afford and was brought to Philly simply because I needed something to hold up my pants. I can look at its surface and see knicks and scratches and think of branches that smacked my lower body and times where I tore it off haphazardly, and all I can wonder is how it managed to stick around.
And then, I look at my own surface, and I see bruises and scars and stretch marks, all signs of use. My body is still around — should I really view this belt any differently? All I know is that I need to be kinder to it, since I am not planning to get rid of it anytime soon. — Liam M.
One-Rupee Note (India)
Government of India, 2015, rag content, cotton, width: 3.8”
What can a one-rupee note buy me in a foreign land? It has, like me, migrated to a new place and left everything behind: all familiarity and context that gave its life meaning. Slightly ragged on the edges but smooth in the middle, this one-rupee note travels in the corners of my wallet. When I stumble upon it, a window is opened into my past and the past of my ancestors. Once, it was the monthly salary of wealthy individuals. Now, it can only buy one toffee or chewing gum. For over a hundred years, the one-rupee note has been the most cherished form of currency across India. After 20 years of discontinuation, it was resurrected by the government of India as a reminder of India's march towards freedom and economic growth during the twentieth century. In the United States, this great piece of history now quietly lives in my pocket, waiting for me to stumble upon it, teleporting me to the past, to the land, to the people who shaped my foundation. — Tushar R.
WNBA Authentic Indoor/Outdoor Basketball
Wilson Sporting Goods, Chicago, Illinois, United States, circa 2022, micro-touch composite leather, super soft core, circumference: 28.5”
“What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?”
— Langston Hughes, “Harlem,” 1951
Maybe it lays dormant in your soul until you have time to nurture it. Coming to terms with giving up your childhood dreams due to circumstances out of your control is a hard task. Spending your adolescence watching others enjoy the fun you dream of and wondering “what if?” takes a toll until you find more persistent things to ponder. Then, one day, everything changes, and you find yourself immersed in a universe you have always longed for. Discovering the WNBA as a teenager revived a passion in me that I thought was lost. Learning to understand the intricacies of how a women’s professional sports league becomes successful helped me see just how important every interaction was. It showed me that you can still be part of something larger than yourself, even if you must reshape what your contribution looks like. Gifted as a signifier of my contribution, this object also displays how willing my loved ones are to validate my passions. So, when I revisit Hughes’s famed question, I now know that a dream deferred is never denied. — Londyn E.
Butter Dish with Swallow Handle
Possibly the Wilcox Silver Plate Co., Meriden, Connecticut, United States, circa 1880–1910, triple plated silver, height: 7.5”
I lift the lid and spread a slice of butter across slightly burnt toast. I eat it in five hurried bites.
One. A maker’s mark, stamped into the underside, reads: Connecticut Plate Co Triple Plate. I cannot find records of the mark. We lost the maker to a signature without translation.
Two. Shortly before the dish’s creation, tariffs on imported goods incited rapid industrialization in the United States. Presentation silver rose to represent the nation’s independence and technological superiority. Was I taught how to polish what remains?
Three. Once, there was an elevated plate where users placed butter and ice. As the ice melted, water drained into the basin below. Preservatives robbed it of purpose, but I threw it away.
Four. On the front are two disfigured holes for a missing knife stand. I rotated the base, hiding the scars from onlookers yet wishing I had the knife stand.
Five. The previous owner passed, and its inheritors sold it to a thrift store on a country road. I found it, yet the past possesses it. The ghost of their memory lingers.
I chew and swallow the thoughts. If time feeds amnesia, then memory feeds me. — A. J. E.
Grasshopper Stool
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, November 24, 2022, plywood, acrylic spray paint, height: 24”
I embarked on the perpetual journey of this stool’s creation as an ignorant artist but returned as a humble craftsman. Knowing nothing but full of confidence and excitement, I believed I could tackle any issues that arose, but I was naive, and the wood was unforgiving. It would wear every scar and every nick on its surface for everyone to see, like an open book sharing my every mistake. I would clash with every imperfection grinding them down, but I would only create more. Through countless hours of sanding, I began to understand the wood and its fragile nature. As I discovered just how to approach every pass and every cut, the once unwieldy tools became my paintbrush and the wood my canvas. With graceful fluidity, the wood warmed up to me and began to reveal its beauty, and I finally felt a sense of real, honest understanding. Searching for the stool in the mass of glued wood, I would find myself — my own flaws, haphazard methods, impulsive process, and flawed sense of skill. As though I had made a new friend, I felt the wood and I shared a bond, built through attentive listening and a longing to understand. — Sam M.
Wacom Intuos S CTL-4100 Drawing Tablet
Wacom, 2-510-1, Toyonodai, Kazo-shi, Saitama, Japan, February 28, 2018, plastic, metal, synthetic material, width: 7.9”
Once I was trapped inside a monochromatic life with no imagination, but now I can wield my pen and paint my own story alongside my drawing tablet. As I gaze at a pure white canvas, sceneries from my imagination are reflected in my mind. Inside it, I can envision a world where islands adorned with formidable mountains and flourishing forests are floating on the clouds, a nature where unprecedented species soar above the boundless sky, swim through the serene ocean, and sprint across the earth, or an odyssey where the hero defeats the demons during a magnificent and long-lasting battle. I dreamed of taking an adventure to those worlds as a child when I read or watched fictional books and shows, wishing I could become the brave warrior who subdues the evildoers. With my drawing tablet, I possess the freedom of how my journey is going to be constructed on the canvas. I am still in the middle of a voyage where I am continuously exploring my drawing style and honing my skills, but one day, I will create a masterpiece together with my treasured drawing tablet. — Eric C.
Cow Mug
Pier 1 Imports, made in China, circa 2000s, ceramic, height: 5.25”
My cow mug is silly and flawed, but that is why I love it. Social media values perfection and only shows lives of absolute happiness and success; it is demoralizing when you do not see the same smiles and adventures in your own life. However, no life is exactly like that. There will be ups and downs, and many imperfections, as there are in this mug. It wobbles due to its slightly uneven legs, it has a few chips in its rim, and the black spots are drawn with uneven borders. But it is also just the right size for both my hands to curl around. It holds the exact amount of coffee from my coffee maker to then be mixed with milk and cream and is perfect for transferring coffee into my travel mug when I am running late. The cow mug suits my lifestyle and reminds me that even when I feel out of place because of my flaws and shortcomings, I just need to give myself time to find the right people and job where my personality and skills fit in. — Jazmin C.
Janamaz (Persian Prayer Rug)
Arya Oriental Rugs, Newtown, Pennsylvania, United States, 2019-2020, wool, length: 48”
At the heart of every janamaz lies a rich tapestry of tradition and faith, meticulously woven in a way that echoes their respective culture’s vibrant history. Stemming from northern Afghanistan, this specific rug transcends its clearly intended function, prayer, and thereby comes to embody the core of Islamic belief and cultural adornment.
The creation process allows for a looking glass into these two cores, humanizing the object through the maker’s intent. All Muslim-made rugs are said to host an intentional mistake as a humble acknowledgment of man’s fallibility and God’s unique perfection. Visible deviations in color choices at this rug’s edges deliberately break an anticipated symmetry, drawing attention to this core Islamic belief.
As for adornment, this janamaz is versatile enough to become whatever the owner wishes it to be by way of its culturally rooted design elements. Whether under a table or at an entrance way, it acts as a mythical item that invites guests into comfort and awe through its eclectic use of colors and intricate patterns, primarily featuring varying sizes of rectangles and straight lines to section off the different artworks within it. Furthermore, the modern multi-colored triangular fringes, sporting the internal-design’s colors, highlight tradition and innovation. — Clay L.
Magnetic Balls Putty
Speks, Brooklyn, New York, United States, circa 2017, 512 neodymium earth magnetic balls, height: .09” (per ball)
To play with magnets is to travel beyond their physical form, to explore an application of one of physics’ greatest mysteries, all in the palm of your hand. Officially, my magnetic putty is a simple fidget toy composed of hundreds of tiny magnetic balls. But as I feel their cool touch while prying and pulling them apart, I embark on a journey of spatial meditation. I encounter shapes, patterns, and isometric structures, many familiar, but there is always something new to discover. This object encapsulates a complex state of both structure and disorder, and constantly sparks the tangible creativity within me. When I bring my desires to bear on this shifting realm of form and geometry, the putty is transformed, woven elegantly together into a new construct, with each sphere in perfect accord with one another. While it may appear unassuming to most, the harmony I create is deeply alluring to me; one may even say I am “tactilely addicted.” It is a truly satisfying end to an intimate ritual, and I smile, knowing there is still beauty within the chaos of the universe. — Durando A.
Yamaha G225 Classical Guitar
YAMAHA Corporation located in Hamamatsu, Shizuoka, Japan, circa 1960s or 1970s, mahogany, rosewood, metal, nylon, height: 33”
If to live is to change, the wearing down of the wood on the fretboard and the dents on the body of my father’s guitar would serve as proof that it has lived. If to live is to be loved, the maintained strings and shine of the mahogany — and how, when it is played, every strum is filled with affection — is proof that it has lived. If to live is to experience, this guitar has crossed continents, from the Americas to Europe. On these journeys, it has experienced my father’s losses, like his own father, and his victories, such as the conquest of and marriage to my mother, proving that alongside him, it has lived. Throughout, it has served as a consolation, a memento, and a character in my father’s life. If to live is to change, love, and experience, without a doubt, my father’s guitar has not just existed, it has lived. — Nicole M.
Kitbashed Robot Model
Kai S., Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, 2021, plastic, height: 1.5”
The original plastic model kit parts that make up this robot did not mean much to me at first, but once separated from their original forms and combined with each other by my own hand, they made me start to feel something, not only for them, but also myself. I started building this robot at a time when I did not like how I was, especially when it came to the way I was creating things. This project helped me bounce back. This robot was the first project in a long time where I felt genuinely happy with a piece while making it. I was finally making a piece that not only looked good but felt good to create. Sure, it is still unfinished, and probably will be forever, but I feel like its current state is a good memory of what it brought me back from. It sits in pieces in my main box of kitbashing bits, either for eventual continuation to be finished as a shelf piece, or as a reminder of what I really enjoy and what makes me happy about creating or, in this robot’s case, recreating. — Kai S.
Inherited Ring
Palestinian Jeweler, 1930, gold, diameter: 1”
I wear my grandmother’s ring. It is gold with carved olive tree leaves.
This singular object encompasses my entire being. It helps me face my hardships, reminds me of my identity, and makes me proud to not only be one but to be part of a whole. It carries with it the timeless promise of commitment not only between families but also livelihoods.
Not able to live a day without thinking of the people in Palestine has become my norm. When I am scrolling on Instagram, they are in my feed, messages, and texts. I cannot escape the terror that is going on in my home, to my people. I have decided I have had enough; I cannot see another lifeless body on my screen, I shut it off.
I put my phone down. The element that surrounds my finger is there.
I realize I cannot escape my identity; I am surrounded by it. It makes me feel guilty to breath clean air, I thought it could not get worse. I am able to put my phone down and say I have had enough. My people cannot put down their phones, so I pick mine back up and begin again. — Marham M.
Eyeshadow Palette
Flower Knows, China, 2023, acrylic, plastic, cardboard, eyeshadow, aluminum, height: 2.7”
This palette resides in the sanctuary of my bathroom, though its influence extends far beyond those walls. Its pigments, applied to my eyelids, dance through the spectrum of my days, holding a kaleidoscope of memories. The shimmer of champagne eyeshadow, nestled within its case, recalls a first date, its anxious thrill mirrored in its sparkling surface. With each swipe of glitters, creams, and browns, a transformation unfolds, a new persona emerges, a voice finds its expression. Tiny nicks on the exterior speak of hurried mornings, visual echoes of the fleeting nature of life’s moments. Yet, the colors within remain vibrant, a promise of new stories yet to be written.
As day fades, confidence softens. In the quiet night, washing away the day’s borrowed strength, the palette becomes both comfort and an unfiltered reflection — a crutch that elevates my spirit but exposes the naked truth of my insecurities that lie beneath the presented mask. More than just pigments housed in plastic, it is a reminder that true beauty thrives not in the outward shell, but in the depth of our stories and the richness of our lives — the colors that paint our souls. — Amanda G.
Bamboo Stick
Robert L., Saint Louis Du Nord, Haiti, 1985, bamboo, length 30.5”
In 1985, a celebratory anniversary of the joining of two families was held in Haiti and hosted by my great-grandfather. As the family celebrated, my father and godfather, two spirited young Haitian boys, explored the gardens of Saint Louis Du Nord and stumbled across a bamboo to be split into two for each boy to possess. As they wielded the bamboo, soft scratches began to reside along the side, marking its history of being used to mimic the Haitian elders as a walking aid or to expand their creativity on their endless adventures. After the celebration ended, the boys returned home to America and proudly held their bamboo alongside them for the next 38 years. — Anastasia L.
A Small Plastic Plant Pot
Monbiffy (manufacturer), Aliexpress (distributors), Mainland China, June 20, 2023, plastic, height: 2.5”
Why did I keep this pot? As another reminder in my long list of shortcomings and failures? The pointlessness of life? Overwatered in a freezing cold room, the small aloe plant that tried to grow in this pot deflated and died. The aloe plant was small, bright, and full of life (and eventually water), budding new leaves. Despite it no longer being able to fulfill its purpose, the pot has been cleaned out, and save for the soil debris caked into the paint and the stripped paint at the bottom, it looks like it could be any other ordinary knickknack strewn around a house. There could be another reason I kept the pot, more detached from the loss of the plant it was supposed to nurture. Maybe I cherish the object because of the painted scene on the outside of a boat traversing a storm under hazy green skies, with water flowing with shoddily drawn orange fish. So now the hollow object sits on top of my shelf where I can admire it while I struggle to avoid being overwatered by life. — Jade B.
Drexel University Lanyard
Drexel University, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, 2021, polyester, cloth, plastic, length: 16”
My lanyard, initially a practical spot for essentials, has seamlessly become a constant companion, even on vacations. When idle, I instinctively reach for its comforting weight, symbolizing home, school, and belonging.
Every time I step out, my go-to is my lanyard. Beyond its simplicity, it tells a story of independence and growth. Acquired during Welcome Week in 2021, my lanyard symbolizes the moment I took control of my college journey.
As my parents left me to navigate university life, I casually picked up the seemingly ordinary lanyard at the URBN Center. Initially for dorm keys, it unexpectedly became intertwined with my daily existence. It is now a part of me; when people think of me, they likely picture it. If I am not wearing it, a quick tap on my chest reassures, its absence making my heart skip a beat.
The next time you see me, I will likely be wearing that little yellow lanyard. It is more than an accessory — it is my lifeline, tying me to Philadelphia and Drexel as well as visually encapsulating my college journey and the essence of who I have become. — Hector M.
Decorative Towel
Diamando M., wood, linen cloth, embroidery thread, height: 32”
In the home where I grew up hung a decorative towel. Behind the otherwise lifeless stitches and mended seams is a story about my grandmother and her resilience to preserve her cultural identity in the face of change. She was only 24 years old when she first stepped foot in America, moving into a small Philadelphia townhouse. As a newlywed optimistic about her new life, my grandmother embarked on a journey to fulfill her American dream: a good job, a nice house, two children, and money to live comfortably. However, the challenges loomed large. The struggle to communicate in English became a poignant thread in her narrative, weaving through the fabric of her experiences. Being miles away from loved ones heightened the sense of isolation, as she grappled with homesickness in a city where everything felt different. My grandmother ensured that her children remained connected to their Greek heritage. She spread the language and traditions, sprinkling simple reminders around the home, like this towel. Her story was not just about overcoming obstacles but became a testament to the idea that one can navigate the complexities of a new life while remaining anchored to the roots that define who they are. — Giovanna M.
Seagull Figurine
PJ S., Baltimore, Maryland, United States, circa 1983, clay, acrylic paint, height: 7.5”
People look at this seagull and assume it is a poorly painted arts and crafts object that no one had the heart to throw away. The sculpture has traveled with my dad from his childhood home to a small dorm room in Vermont that smelled like beer, then a starter town house with his new wife, and finally to their dream home with two children and a beloved dog. At every opportunity that presents itself, the seagull takes a fieldtrip from my parent’s home to my grandparent’s house and then back again. The seagull is a birthday gift, a graduation present, and an April fool’s day prank all at once. The scrapes on the bottom are from uncomfortable seating arrangements and its once bright orange beak was chipped due to being uncomfortably shoved in a mailbox. The seagull is ugly and badly damaged, but it is loved which makes it valuable to me. — Serena S.
Matryoshka Dolls 5-Piece Set
Baltic Shipping Company, Leningrad, Russia, 1976, wood, paint, height: 6”
Despite lacking a direct connection to my heritage, these matryoshka dolls serve as a tangible link to my roots, encapsulating tales of familial resilience and cultural identity. Beyond their aesthetic allure, these dolls remain shrouded in mystery, prompting contemplation on how a family with Palestinian and Italian heritage came to obtain an authentic Russian souvenir. Having been in my childhood home for the entirety of my life, these dolls faced a temporary exile to a cardboard box, sent to the cleaners in the aftermath of a fire. Weathered on the outside, the inner dolls retained their vibrant colors, shielded from the elements of sun and fire. Nevertheless, they returned home, reclaiming their place in the glass-paneled cabinet where they had resided for 26 years. Now, these dolls, which occupied a space in my childhood home longer than I have been alive, embark on a new journey. Coming from the house where my parents built a life together, the dolls find a new home in my college apartment, on the same grounds where my parents’ story began. As I gaze upon these dolls, I remember the hardships we have endured and the perseverance that lies within us. — Gianna M.
Portable Painting Station
Frontier Wargaming, Riga, Latvia, circa 2021, wood, plastic, brass, rubber, woven cloth, width: 12.2”
This simple wooden case is sacred. Through the act of sitting in front of it, I am taken to a world outside our own, transported away for a moment to focus on a world smaller and more fragile. There is catharsis in sitting at the edge of this box and painting the details on a miniature; it helps me realize how large and grand everything can be but also that the small or mundane things that we might overlook in life can be the most important to us. The miniature is relative, but what bears meaning is not.
The case was a gift from my grandmother. She is a foundation in my life. Though she does not share or enjoy many of the hobbies that I do, she knows that painting is something I love. She understands the effort and time I put into the projects I paint and is always the first to ask about my latest miniature. To me, this painting station is one of the most important things I own. Its brass hinges bear her love and remind me every day of how much she means to me and how special the time we share together is. — Owen B.
Grooved & Painted Ceramic Planter
Doylestown, Pennsylvania, United States, 2021, porcelain, height: 5”
What is an object without someone seeing the beauty and potential that lies within? A four-and-a-half-inch by five-inch orange and white planter is a simple artifact to a passerby. But I see more. The ceramic walls will be an incubator for life. Someone handcrafted this vessel to perfection, right down to the rough yet gloss-encased grains making up its unique texture. The symmetry of the interlaced, grooved diamonds nested within each other complements by contrast the natural asymmetrical fluidity of the plant it will soon embrace. I wonder if anyone will notice that the seamless fade of the orange and white, which creates an entirely new color, mimics the process of water and soil infusing together to provide a new substance of nutrients and promote life itself. Will this object remain a four-and-a-half-inch by five-inch ceramic planter, or will you choose to see its beauty and potential? — Cam K.
Rudraksha Mala
India or Nepal, Rudraksha trees, length: 18”
As the Rudraksha beads pass through my fingers, they cultivate energy within me. The Rudraksha Mala serves as a conduit between me and the Divine. It has initiated my spiritual journey and has also guided my family on their spiritual paths, teaching us valuable life lessons about remaining calm and humble towards others. This mala typically consists of 109 beads, with the 109th bead known as the guru bead. The mala’s 108 beads are traditionally used for reciting mantras. Threading these beads through my fingers during meditation helps me connect with the universe’s energies and the Divine. One of the primary reasons for having 108 beads is to symbolize the connection between the Earth and the Sun: the diameter of the Earth, multiplied by 108, equals the diameter of the Sun, and the diameter of the Sun, multiplied by 108, equals the distance between the Earth and the Sun. The 109th bead marks the completion of a meditation cycle. The mala enriches my meditation, linking me more closely with the Divine and reminding me to stay composed and humble. It provides spiritual insights, nurturing serenity, and humility throughout my day. — Anuj T.
40oz Pine Green Water Bottle
Thermoflask, California, United States, 2022, stainless steel, height: 20”
My partner’s pine green bottle has felt like a companion to us more than a vessel for water. Every dent, scratch, and imperfection in the surface tells a unique story. It has been with us almost every time we have left our homes. I am the designated water bottle holder. The rhythmic back and forth swing from its hinged handle as I walk feels second nature to me. It is an extension of my left arm, like a second elbow. The bottom rubber piece has permanently detached itself. It no longer can grip the bottle due to the wear and dust buildup that has slowly accumulated throughout our journeys. We hopelessly keep this piece at home instead of throwing it out, as if the bottle would ever age in reverse and be able to hold this piece again. Despite this, the bottle has become much more than its physical condition. — Nicholas D.
iPod Nano (5th Generation)
Apple Inc., designed in Cupertino, California, United States, assembled in China, September 2009, anodized aluminum, glass, glossy plastic, height: 3.6”
One might describe it as a shiny embodiment of consumer excess and slick marketing, but to me, my fifth-generation iPod Nano is so much more. It has numerous features which are impressive for its time, but there is one that I find especially significant. Its tiny silver video camera measuring less than a half of an inch wide has probably documented years of my life.
I remember how excited I was to first record videos with my iPod. These new gadgets brought possibilities that seemed truly endless and uncynical. Taking videos felt like a dedicated act, rather than being taken for granted, or a cause for privacy concerns.
I captured moments that seemed ordinary and indefinite, filled with faces that I anticipated to be around for all my life. Some of these faces moved away, or naturally grew apart from me. One became ill, painfully demonstrating how impermanent paternal connection can be.
But this connection does not have to end when someone is gone. Through memories, they can be preserved, even if through a window in your mind or a low-resolution iPod video. — Steven M.
Toaster Refrigerator Magnet
2023, painted ceramic, magnet, height: 2”
For my 21st birthday, one of my friends gifted me food-themed magnets. They became adornments on my refrigerator, a previously empty expanse in my otherwise decorated studio apartment. Unknown by my friend, one magnet resonated with me. Toast was probably the first food I made for myself. It is probably the food I eat the most as well. When I was planning to move into my freshman dorm, I panicked because toasters were not allowed. Every time someone asked me about college, I would bring up the toaster rule. They were amused. But the newness of college was terrifying, and this was just one more issue. I subsisted on microwave meals when the dining hall food lost its charm until my roommate came home with a toaster. Since it was there, I figured I might as well use it. Eating toast again was a simple comfort when I was homesick and lonely. Now in my senior year, I have worked to make my apartment feel like home. My freezer is full of bread waiting to be toasted and the magnet takes pride of place on my refrigerator. — Charlotte H.
Bose SoundLink Micro: Small Portable Bluetooth Speaker
Bose, September 21st, 2017, aluminum, plastic, steel, metal, silicone, height: 3.87”
It is amazing how old things tend to take on new value, seemingly unannounced. When I first saw this object in its box on Christmas Day, I will admit I had no strong emotion towards it. I think it was the combination of its overly simplified shape and limited function that initially fueled my indifference. Nevertheless, I thanked my parents and promptly forgot about the gift. The shrink-wrapped box laid motionless on the shelf in my room for years. One day, I finally decided to break it open, and it opened a new world for me. This device became a great icebreaker when meeting friends for the first time. I gained a new appreciation for the aspects of its design that I originally held contempt for. The simple round shape and uniform size made it easy to travel with and share with others. My change in attitude toward this object had nothing to do with the object itself. It was still just as unassuming as when I first received it. However, once I opened that box, it brought new value into my life, something I would have never thought it was capable of. — Luke D.
Artificial Potted Cactus
GREAT WEST Durable Goods, circa 2000, nylon, polyester, string, plastic, height: 7”
This cactus is a trickster’s tool — an item destined to discombobulate even the densest of psyches. Do you want to surprise someone? Place their hand upon the cactus and witness their shock. Is a person talking too long about things you do not care about? Derail their train of thought by lightly tossing the cactus into their arms and watching them panic. Is someone ignoring you? Gently rub the cactus’s soft, bristle-like prickles on their face and watch them spring away in utter confusion. Then, see them get even more confused upon realizing you stroked their face with a prickly plant. Because of my antics, most people’s initial reaction to my cactus is surprise, but once they fully realize their situation, they get curious. They briefly think to themselves things like, “How did I touch a cactus unharmed?” or “What is a cactus even doing here?” Sometimes, the victim of my prank makes sense of the situation themselves. Other times, I explain that the cactus was always artificial and that they were never in any real danger. Either way, these little interactions continuously bring me great joy. — Xavier L.
Victrola Bluetooth Record Player
Victrola, locations in New York and Denver, United States, and Shenzhen, China, circa 2007, plastic, height: 5” (closed)
How does something withstand the test of time? Design is constantly updating with new, innovative technologies to keep our way of life modernized. The record player was invented in the late 19th century and has evolved with new models such as mine, a version created in the early 20th century. It is a simple design with minimal gold accents and a white textured casing, mimicking the form of a suitcase. It is not that alluring when closed, but once opened it reveals the delicacy of the turntable and all its mechanics. The experience is what made me want to own a record player. There is an appeal to building a vinyl collection, selecting which vinyl to take out, placing it onto the turntable, and watching it spin around while music projects. My record player is a time machine in which I must perform the ritual of opening it up to place my next destination. The sound quality is one from a different time, as if Bing Crosby himself is in my room singing to me. It allows me to press pause in this ever-changing world we live in and enhance my way of experiencing music. — Lydia B.
LA670WA-1 Digital Watch
Casio, Shibuya City, Tokyo, Japan, circa 2012, resin glass, chrome, stainless steel, length: 8”
The numbers on my watch change every second, yet its body is constant. The familiar face comforts me wherever I go. In some moments, time stands still. I am frozen by anxiety or fear, not wanting to progress. Other times, the numbers on my watch change much too fast. I am consumed by work and responsibilities day after day, not able to catch a break. My favorite times are when I do not feel the need to check my watch. I am indifferent to how time passes because I am surrounded by my loved ones. Solid metal links mold around my wrist holding me tight, supporting me just like the people I hold dearest. My watch reminds me that time always moves forward, and I can count the minutes until the next time I see them if I choose. Times change, but I am lucky to have a tight-knit band that is always there for me. — Kayseigh M.
Modular Cat Table: daybreak
Isaac A., URBN Center, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, March 7, 2023, maple plywood, satin paint, height: 13.5”
Born out of stress and exhaustion, daybreak was created for both cats and humans to enjoy through physical interactions. In my fall term as a junior, I fell into a deep depression. I had no drive to learn, create, or do anything. I was failing my classes, including this one. I ended up on academic probation, and I had to appeal to an academic board to stay in school. As winter term rolled around, I still lacked a desire to create something new. That changed when I learned that my new design course would allow me to construct whatever I wanted, with my prompt being “designing for coexistence between animals and humans.” Having that freedom allowed me to think for myself, and finally create something that fit my tastes and desires. Through consistent interviews, inspiring conversations with peers, and the pressures to finish my schooling, I conceptualized daybreak the night before my prototype was due. daybreak, a modular table that switches between table, side table, and storage space, encompasses my journey with depression and the stress from it, shown through the table’s rough, unfinished form, as well as my commitment to continue along the path of a designer. — Isaac A.
Black Claw Clip
circa 2018, plastic, metal, length: 6”
Have you ever held an object that surpasses its intended purpose, becoming a silent witness to the intricate tapestry of your life? A high school initiation gift from my mother, my black claw clip has adapted to roles beyond hairstyling, from a paperweight to a friend offering solace through life trials.
This simple black clip witnessed my loss of innocence, standing by me when trust was manipulated and shattered by loved ones. She was the only one there for me, silently urging me to find strength and take a stand. When I was in pain and had to stay silent, she made sure I felt no worry over my appearance as her beauty, style, and functionality offered me confidence and strength to interact with others. This simple black clip kept my hair away from my tear-soaked face when I was alone in the hospital attempting and failing to reteach my silly brain how to walk again.
She became a companion that showered me with her strength, support, endurance, and beauty to teach me that I am never alone and to never give up. She has gone beyond her function to become the one I rely on the most. — Samiha S.
Spyderco Centofante 3
Frank Centofante & Spyderco, Golden, Colorado, United States, 2004, steel, fiberglass, nylon, length: 7.64” (open)
When I was in high school, I joked about how I wanted a knife. Not because I wanted to stab people or use it as some form of protection — I just wanted one. So, for a while, I would float this idea around my friends. I would randomly say I wanted a knife once every couple of weeks or so. Knowing my friends, I knew they were not going to gift me one. Plus, I was only half-heartedly serious, and they knew it. So, we just played my silly request as a recurring joke. Then, one sunny afternoon during my birthday month, my boyfriend gifted me a Centofante 3 pocketknife. I was caught off-guard. My gift was wrapped in floral wrapping paper. The last thing I would have expected it to be was a knife. Now, this pocketknife serves as a physical reminder that my boyfriend takes me seriously and that he genuinely listens to me. And most important of all, he trusts me enough to give me, his partner, a weapon. To me, there is nothing more loving than trust. — Amy W.
Tam Tam
Volkswagen Golf MK4, Wolfsberg, Germany, 2002, steel, plastic, alloy, glass, fabric, rubber, height: 56.8”
Every teenager dreams of two things: freedom and friendship. Tam Tam, my 2002 Volkswagen Golf, offered me both. She calmed my existential angst and gave me an escape where the only thing to focus on was the winding turns and the smell of the ocean as we drove past the beach. Her odometer measured the distance and the tempo of a young man’s teenage dreams just taking flight. Late-night drives with girlfriends, best friends, and ex-friends are remembered in the dents, scratches, and chips in the paint. I wish there was a way to thank her for how much she helped me during my worst times and how much better she made the best times. But for now, she idly waits in the driveway of my parents’ house until I return home and wake her up. As she eventually comes to life, each hum resonates like the warm embrace of an old friend. — Zack R.
Adorned Love Heart Vessel
circa 2010s, plaster-covered cardboard, glass, width: 6”
When does an object begin to embrace a role beyond the tangible? Once an insignificant gift from my grandmother, this vessel is now a silent witness to the passage of time and a declaration of the unwavering ties that bind generations. Within this heart lies a narrative that transcends mere aesthetics, and as the shadows of mortality loom, this unassuming vessel has become a conduit for profound contemplation on the ephemeral nature of life, the weight of aging, and the enduring power of love. In the dance of delicate mirrors, sunlight ignites a mosaic that rekindles fond memories of my grandmother’s warm embrace. The vessel’s matte white finish acts as the ideal canvas for the timeless handwritten message, “… from my Heart to yours!” The fear of eventually saying goodbye is overwhelming, but the gifted love heart vessel stands as a steadfast guardian of cherished moments. Each glance at the vessel is a reassurance that, even in absence, love transcends the boundaries of time. — Mia Z.
Gold Watch
Balmain Swiss, Switzerland, circa 2001, gold, metal, length: 7”
Whenever I watched my father put on this gold watch, I knew a special event was on the horizon. The thin link strap would wrap so delicately around his large wrist. In my mind, this 2001 Balmain Swiss watch is what I picture when I hear the word elegance. As a child, I did not understand fashion or luxury, but I knew that the watch was something to be treasured. Since becoming an adult, I have grown an appreciation for and understanding of well-made items and how much effort goes into the art of making things look plain. From time to time, I pick up and admire each component of the watch. The intricate paisley facing and the slim tapered hands are my favorite to examine. They seamlessly and effortlessly come together to make something that seems simple but has immense detail. I will always thank this watch for giving me the ability to find the beauty and see the complexity behind objects that feign as modest. The Balmain Swiss watch now accompanies me, on my much smaller wrist, to every special occasion. — Petra A.
Ibanez, Black ARC300 Solid Body Electric Guitar
Ibanez (アイバニーズ) Nagoya, Japan, circa 2006, mahogany, maple, rosewood, abalone, steel, nickel, enameled paint, height: 39”
When I pick up the sleek, classic form, plug it into my amp, prop it up on my leg and strum, that first chord feeling just resonates in a special way. The familiar, bright, and lively tone echoes, as if hanging in the air surrounding me. Resonance is not only a sound quality, but also perfectly describes my relationship with the guitar. Throughout my life I have been one to try it all, be it a new sport or activity, but the guitar resonated as an inescapable interest. Every song means something to me, every song links to a special memory laced with that sound. As I run my fingers across the shimmering shell inlay, there is no pressure. Instead, I find comfort in the fact that it is one of the many parts of who I am, and I can continue to get lost in playing the music I love. — Matthew L.
Amber Pill Vial
Cipla USA Inc., United States, 2023, light-resistant amber polypropylene, height: 3”
The amber pill vial has turned my life into one worth living. This small, underappreciated bottle is imperative to my health and well-being. It is the only protector of its contents and mortality. The vial serves as the head sergeant in my fight against illness. It has symbolized my best and worst times in the human experience, holding my hand in every step I take. The orange hue on the vial represents the warmth of the cure to my debilitating dilemma. A challenging top to screw off delivers validation to me for the perseverance I have with my condition. The vial is personalized with my name to showcase that I am a warrior. It contains no harsh ridges; this makes it easy on my eyes and welcoming in a sense. The white label oozes hopefulness as it shares the color palette with a bright dove. However, hope is an understatement of the bottle’s purpose. The vial is the definition of beauty due to how it has given me my life back. These vials unite all their owners in the struggle for victory with modern-day medicines. — Cait M.
Mini Valeria’s Sword Letter Opener
Windlass Steelcrafts, India, circa 2018, cast and plated solid metal, length: 6 3/8”
Does the ambiguity of something as simple as a letter opener allow you to assign your own meaning, or could the way you see it betray your own nature? Look at this sword — what do you see? It no doubt takes on the form of a weapon, but a sword this small is hardly fit for a warrior. Look closer and notice that the blade is so dull it may not even cut through toasted bread. Its feminine curve is just the right angle for opening an envelope, but scarcely suited for carving up enemies. Look even closer and you may notice the texture of a wooden hilt mimicked in shallow carvings of bark but know you will find no solid purchase in gripping the metal handle. Even so, the handle curves into the shape of your palm and its balanced weight invites your grasp. The grinning masks near the crossguard seem to mock your confusion, daring you to keep looking closer, ask more questions. The inherent dichotomy of an object so often leaves room for your unique interpretation. Perhaps you can find comfort in knowing your perception may reveal more about you than the object you observe. — Kara B.
Thrifted Chinese Changing Screen
China, 2016, wood, plastic, metal, height: 8”
How could this object have so much sentimental value to me when it is not even mine? This dual-sided, miniature, Chinese changing screen belongs to my roommate; it sits upon our windowsill along with other knickknacks. Having a materialistic attachment to objects does not come easily to me due to my practice of being a minimalist growing up and the instability of housing that my college life has brought. Maybe I am drawn to this screen because of what its iconography represents. One side of the screen has four different panels of painted peonies and hibiscus flowers — authentic to the greenery of Asia — that bloom as they cross the surface, evolving through time and highlighting the beauty of change and growth. This motif of gradual change mirrors my change of perspective on physical spaces. This object encourages me to believe that one day I could have my own space to decorate with my treasured objects, a place where I can feel a true sense of belonging, a home. — Cecilia C.