Minimalism by any other name
I was talking to Derek (dwrdnet) the other day, and he said he thought my blog offered a unique and different minimalist viewpoint (do check out his awesome Youtube channel). It was a cool thing to hear — thank you Derek. I am certainly drawn to some minimalist principles. But how can I call myself a minimalist? I write this from my comfortable room, surrounded by books and stationery, among my beloved plants and Menagerie friends. If I were to “edit” or “curate” my space for stark minimalism, most of these things would need to go, and I am not here for it.
Two yixing teapot siblings side by side on one of my many bookshelves. I love these little teapots, and wouldn’t mind having more, but I’m happy with these. I use one for shu pu’er, another for sheng. How many of those would a minimalist have? Probably zero. The imaginary minimalist could use teabags. Or brew the good tea grandpa style - I’ve done that myself on many occasions.
As an immigrant earlier in life, I remember well what it felt like to leave everything behind. My peers have childhood mementos, artwork, books, heirloom pieces of furniture. I have almost nothing. One of my most prized possessions is a single page of my grandfather’s handwritten sheet music that, as a child, I smuggled out of the USSR, folded inside a personal notebook. My desire for stark minimalism comes and goes, but mostly it’s not there. But it’s also fair to say that I am alarmed by excess in my spaces.
A little tablescape on my rolltop desk. With menagerie friend the alabaster rabbit, three fountain pens, and three inks.
I feel that life’s too short for either hoarding or deprivation. My internal Principle of Stuff is balanced between careful curation and this wild yearning for beauty, a free-flowing desire for art and meaning in material form. I can fall in love with a wonderful object, but having too many at once feels precarious. When things feel unbalanced, I tend to rebalance them. It’s more of a vibe than a principle.
Inks and pens - closeup. I’ve been thinking about buying a better camera or at least upgrading my smartphone - it’s ancient by now. But It works. So I don’t.
Over the years, I’ve noticed that June tends to be more sparse for me in terms of ink and fountain pen use. This year so far, June has been a three pens, three inks month.
The situation is as follows:
Aurora Internazionale Arancione + Montblanc Moctezuma. This pairing has been with me since late 2024 - I love the ink and the pen, and it’s in constant inked use, though primarily for titles and important phrases in my journal.
Onoto Magna Keats with a steel stub nib + Montblanc Origin Coral. I washed out all except 2 of my pens on May 31, so I had a full array of choices, but gravitated towards this shovel-like stub from Onoto with one of my favorite ink additions of 2024. Coral is cheerful and bold, with beautiful shading; it also looks lovely next to the Moctezuma.
Onoto Magna Sequoyah with an F Italic steel nib + Teranishi Traveling Sepia. A more everyday ink situation that works well with my other two inks, and gives me a slimmer nib option, albeit with a lot of line variation still.
A closer look at the three inks - Montblanc Moctezuma, Montblanc Origin Coral, Teranishi Traveling Sepia.
The three-ink situation wasn’t my intention for June, but it happened, and I am leaning in. I’ll probably ink another pen before the month is over, but it will not be in the dozens. Is this minimalism? To me, it does not feel so. There has to be a better word, but I have not found it yet.