When I was sixteen years old, I took down all of the posters and magazine clippings that I had so intricately taped to my bedroom wall. Considering the hours upon hours that I spent crafting this enormous inspiration collage, one may think that this was a very painful process for me. However, it was not. In fact, it was quite the opposite: my pictures, despite how much I adored every little NYLON clipping and indie band poster, were contributing to me having panic attacks. There were so many colors and details all around me that I could not focus on my homework or reading books or even having fun with my friends. By the time I was finished taking down the pictures to expose bare white walls, I felt a sense of rebirth and cleansing. I felt so full and peaceful. I slept better. This was the first time I realized I am a minimalist.
Years later, I live alone in a one-bedroom space that has what I need: wood floors, white walls, natural light, and the things that I love. There is nothing beyond that. I find that only having the things that I need causes a sense of detachment from material things, which allows me to further indulge in my growth as an artist, a blogger, and a human being. It also gives me more leeway to invest in things that are of high quality, sans the feeling of overspending. “Splurge” is not a concept in my life, since I don’t clutter my spending with the purchasing of unnecessary things. Nearly everything you see in these pictures is everything that I own.
Everything in my home has a story behind it, also. The trunk hiding behind my couch is one-of-a-kind, which my best friend and I found in a shop in Seattle. The photograph in the gold frame was taken by my boyfriend (@aaron_noia) when he was in Prague, and it is my favorite piece of work he has ever made. I made the chalkboard above my bicycle. With little memories attached to everything I own, I don’t need anything extravagant or in large quantities to make me feel fulfilled and happy… and I have more money to spend on clothes, obviously.