The first movie I remember seeing and really loving was ‘The Brave Little Toaster’. Have you seen it? I must have watched it dozens of times on VHS in the late 80’s and 90’s. In the ensuing decades the precise plot has escaped me but the gist is an animate toaster, accompanied by his companions a vacuum, electric blanket and desk lamp, search for their owner after being either left behind or perhaps deliberately discarded. Sort of like ‘Homeward Bound’, only starring common household appliances instead of pets.
Spirits ever lifted by the valiant toaster, the appliances remained faithful in their search for their former owner, certain his floors still needed cleaning, his desk required lighting, and surely his bread demanded electric coils to transform it to a golden brown destiny. They crossed vast distances, underwent harrowing experiences of destruction, and I clearly remember a culminating scene where the charismatic crew were pursued through a junkyard by a grimacing crane-operated magnetic trash collector.
My impressionable eyes followed their adventures and from it I took a lifelong sense of duty towards my possessions. An idea that my attention held value, indeed nourishment, for the inanimate objects that filled the material world started to weigh on my conscience. As a child I felt bad for the toys I didn’t play with often, and made time for them in my games. I took pity on the Christmas decorations, languishing in the basement for most of the year, and for all the detritus that accumulated unregarded in the closets and junk drawers of my suburban home. I felt indebted to the furniture, refrigerator, shoelaces, and all the myriad overlooked souls we relied on every day to tirelessly serve us, until we tired of them.
The weight of all these possessions still drags on my soul. We have unprecedented access to cheaply made, mass-produced objects, easy to obtain, easy to discard. The exploitation of people and planet is hidden by distance and deliberate ignorance, so we can go on buying stuff we don’t really need. The brave little toaster and his companions were so easily left behind, no longer needed, readily replaceable. They sacrificed much to track down their owner, their devotion outweighed both fear and rationality. They refused the landfill and escaped redundancy. Even though our possessions are not endowed with that strength of spirit, we owe it to each other and our planet to treat them as if they did.
Can you see now, the crooked line that connects a childhood fantasy to a pursuit of this craft? How a handmade object could give pause to the modern inclination to discard for the next new thing, could imbue a simple cup with a bit of specialness?