I just couldn’t stop thinking about this post on Style Court.
Letter writing, popularly thought to be a dying art, is due for a comeback thanks in no small part to the electronic age. We are all more literate, if only because the whole world wants to monkey about with social media: txt msgs, tweets, blogs, sites and whatever the new medium will cook up for us next. I find that encouraging.
My father-in-law writes a beautiful letter. No doubt thanks to his years at boarding schools here and abroad and a life spent traveling the world in the service of his country. I imagine that he composes these missives (at home anyway) seated at the extra long library table that is fashioned from a single piece of lumber taken, I believe, from a ship.
I remember a comment by a reader who exclaimed over my very neat desk here at Easy and Elegant Life World HQ. That was then, this is now.
Somehow, over the course of the last two years, my desk has become more of a pile rather than an elegantly appointed work surface. The desk itself is an art deco game table that unfolds to reveal a green baize covered top.
I am in awe of those I know whose desktops are marvels of sleek minimalism. Not so much as a wire or disorderly array of pens or post-it notes stuck to the side of the wireless laptop. (Hello Mr. Punch Art Director. How do you do that?) How much easier it must be to think. How much more elegantly one might approach one’s day.
To my mind, there is no greater luxury than a dedicated space for writing. And by writing, I mean longhand, preferably with a fountain pen and a piece of beautiful, thick, creamy card stock or stationery. You need space to write. There must be a place to put pad, paper and pen at the minimum. But I’d settle for an orderly desktop like that minimalist art director’s described above. White Mac, little white, globular speakers, one clean pad of paper waiting to be inscribed with brilliant thoughts, one Mont Blanc roller ball with which to commit thought to paper. Maybe even a glass desk top.
I feel the urge to scratch out some thoughts, or at least a thank you note or two. But it’ll have to be at the dining room table. How do you get rid of the wires? And the paper? (I must have spring cleaning on the brain.)
(A Mr. Hammel of NuNomad.com via BusinessWeek)
(From Apartment Therapy)
How does one achieve even something as maximalist yet as orderly as this?
I’m tempted to treat the desk as I do my wardrobe and simply throw out anything that I haven’t accessed in a year or more.
What about you? How do you go paper-magazine-tear-sheet-scrap-wire-less? Or do you?