California Baby Newborn/Toddler/Children's Products
Having children with incredibly sensitive skin has been a challenge since their birth. Discovering California Baby, "safe and natural" products that would perform without leaving my little one itchy, dry or resembling a tomato, was a great relief to me. With natural products and safe ingredients, I was happy that I would not have to "make" my own shampoos and skin creams for those sweet baby cheeks. So, imagine my surprise to find that a company that advertises "developed by a mother, California Baby has your best interest at heart" has overall ratings of 6.3 or below on www.goodguide.com due to due performance in the areas of "environment and society." Key areas that received the lowest ratings included the company's policies and practices related to water use, environmental reporting, greenhouse gas emissions, biodiversity, and human rights. Each of these were rated 4.0 out 10.0 according to the standards of the site. The overall health of the products from this line were ranked from 8.0 to 10.0. Today, the words natural, organic, whole, sustainable, eco-friendly, pure, essential, botanically based, gluten-free, GMO free, and recycled (not an exhaustive list) are often interpreted as the healthier, better, safer, smarter choice. Please do not misunderstand, I believe that these are good things, and often the better choice for me and my family. However, consumers can be too trusting and dangerously interchange some words for others ("all natural" for "organic"). Consumers, like myself, also are in danger of assuming that just because a company promotes healthy living, more natural choices and in fact offers a healthy alternative does not mean that the company exhibits this same care and caution when making the product. By "exploring the social and political meanings that are communicated through" the verbiage of these products and the products themselves can help us to gain a better understanding of the intended consumer and target audience.
House as Metaphor
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| ‘home within home’ (installation view)museum of modern and contemporary art, seoul, koreanovember 12, 2013 – may 11, 2014 |
"I just didn't want to sit down and cry for home. I wanted to more actively deal with issues of loneliness."
Do Ho Suh's ideas about the mobility of "home" struck me...the idea that you can physically recreate your home where ever you go. For years, I have experienced great periods of "homesickness" for the country home I grew up in. Suh's reflection on his childhood home and desire to carry that with him where ever he goes resonated with me and brought many of those feelings to the surface. Having experienced Suh's work in person at the Seattle Art Museum, I felt a familiarity as he talked. Much like Suh, I always wanted to travel, live in different places, "get away" from my roots, my childhood country life experience. The Korean idea of "walking the house" is especially intriguing to me as I wonder how differently I would understand my childhood "home" if I could physically take it with me always. As it is now, I am either extremely disappointed because returning home does not match my memory or exceedingly rewarded by the serenity of the place I still cherish as "home" (even though I have lived in many different places and owned quite a few houses as an adult).
Suh's work confronts the issues of cultural displacement. Coming home for me has been a displacement of sorts. Growing up in Louisiana, moving away for many years and returning has opened my eyes to how different I am from the culture in which I was raised. My belief systems have evolved and no longer mirror (or resemble) my parents or even some of my siblings. This could be part of the feeling of loss I experience when thinking about or revisiting my home. What am I actually home sick for? The time before I realized we were so fundamentally different? A desire for them to see things as I do? Or at least try?
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The Perfect Home (2002)
Silk and translucent nylon
Private Collection, New York |
Our Family Table
My first thought for this exercise was my dining room table. Since I was a child, almost all family activity, discussions, and interactions revolved around our dining room table (a solid wood round table). My parents insisted that all meals take place around this table (whether we liked it or not...there were definitely times I envied my friends whose parents allowed them to eat in front of the TV) - on weekends we ate three meals gathered together like King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.
Today, my little family of four participates in the same ritual...all meals around the table. In fact, many other activities take place at our table...school projects, art and craft activities, games, reading, FaceTime with distant relatives, just to name a few. However, for this exercise I wanted to explore another table that is (almost) equally important in our home at this period in our life: the train table.
Calling this the "train table" is actually an inaccurate description of its function and purpose. I think that the "learning table" might be a bit more appropriate. This small table sits about a foot off the ground and is the perfect size for my two and four year old to manipulate and navigate. This table represents creativity, exploration, invention, innovation, conversation, discussion, revelation. Sometimes it looks just as you see it. At other times it is cleared completely, covered with brown paper and becomes a canvas. It offers a flat surface for games and puzzles. My girls find many uses for this space. I have even observed it being used for contemplation...
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she's not sleeping...just "kickin" - said Bea
As our family congregates around this table, a different kind of conversation unfolds...the girls have invited us into their world of play. We are asked to be creators within their space but also to abide by their rules (reminiscent of "rules" we might have at the dining room table).
Reflecting on the statement: Cultural understandings of time and space determine what we choose to see, and define our understanding of the relationships between things (Keifer-Boyd 1992, 74). One of the purest places in my home (and possibly life at this moment) to witness the physical articulation and exploration of beliefs is in the play of my children. They experiment with language, relationships, space. They contemplate time and their relation to it. They are constantly watching themselves, each other, the objects within their environment to understand how they act, react and interact with one another. I find that even their verbal communication is a working out of their nonverbal actions. (They might be a product of a mom who has labeled and discussed everything since they were born). As I listen to conversation, I hear about my four year olds' day. Unexpected glimpses of pop culture surface (last week she was singing Annie's "It's a Hard Knock Life" - she has never seen the movie or heard the song). Apparently, her friends at school have invited her into their reenacting of the new Annie movie. Beliefs are articulated (several weeks ago she was singing a song she made up: "boys are not the bosses...only girls are bosses...boys are not the bosses...only girls are bosses"). She was reluctant to discuss the ideas that prompted these lyrics.
In this space, we learn things about them that we might not otherwise. We are participants and eavesdroppers. They articulate many of their beliefs and echo ours through the dialogue of characters and the patterns of construction. Although this space seems to extend its reach to anyone who wants to explore, the table's size actually excludes many. The elderly or physically challenged may find the space impossible to navigate. Sometimes I am asked to be in constant movement around the table, a cumbersome task at times. Additionally, just as children are sometimes excluded from adult conversations and activities...instances arise when we are asked to leave or remain as spectators.
All in all, this table represents the growing of our family, closer together and as individuals. The space and environment surrounding this table parallels the dining table as a place that fosters learning, love, and communion.
Resources:
Keifer-Boyd, K. (1992). Deep-seated culture: Understanding sitting. Journal of Social Theory in Art Education, 12, 73–99.
http://www.art21.org/texts/do-ho-suh/interview-do-ho-suh-seoul-home-la-home-korea-and-displacement
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