Economy of Ethics.

I just finished a survey about consumer behavior when buying a textile product such as clothing or sheets or anything like that. The survey asked how much money you spend on clothes and such and what you would pay when the product was produced locally or sustainable etc. etc. The thing is… I think the sustainability and the quality of textiles and how they are made is very important. Truth is as well that I myself not at all pay a fair price for my clothing nor can I afford to. In fact, most of the stuff I own is second hand, bought at a second-hand market for 1 euro, or I got it at a clothing swap. And of course, sometimes I buy (high quality) products in the final sale so I pay 5-10 euros for a pair of pants instead of the 40 euros that they should have cost… the best bargain I ever had was paying 5 euro for a pair of pants that were originally 240 euros or something… Thing is, it’s not that I don’t want to pay what something is worth, or do not know the costs… I am a ‘sewist’ myself so I know how much fabric, buttons, and zippers can cost even without assembling them. I also know how hard it is or how long it takes to assemble something, or to make a pattern. Yet, when you ask me ‘this dress that you want is 50 euros, would you pay more if it was produced ethically I say: no.’ Simply because I would never spend 50 euros on a dress even, so I could never afford to pay more. It is like sitting in your favorite restaurant for 4 hours and only buying the day’s special and drinking water from the tap: I have more power over whether or I go bankrupt than that I have over the income of the restaurant.

 

Economy is an interesting concept, and I before have called myself a ‘hobby-economist’, like I am also very much a ‘hobby-theologian’. I find it very interesting to think about the injustices or the mechanics of economies. The thing is, Economy and ethics go so badly together because our first concern is: does this harm mé in any way, or- does this cost me in any way I can’t or don’t want to afford? In the end, we all seem to be doomed to live by the fact that somethings are valuable and others are expensive, somethings are essential and others are affordable. In the end, we all need everything that is essential, want something that is valuable to us, affordable, and inexpensive. We are all out on survival here.

Semi-easter themed collage from years ago. Lambs in the jungle.

Thinking of the title ‘economy of ethics’ I was reminded of the Switchfoot song: “economy of mercy”.  Perhaps we don’t need an economy of ethics, barely any of us can afford it- instead, perhaps looking at good Friday, the day that everything was turned around, can help us to find a new way of living:

 

In the economy of mercy, I am a poor and begging man

In the currency of grace, is where my song begins

In the colors of Your goodness, in the scars that mark Your skin

In the currency of grace, is where my song begins

Gravity Within Me

I decided that I wanted to write a little less private. A little less: ‘the 10 people I know that put up with my writing’ have read it. I thought I might look for a class or a contest, just a place to see whether or not I could be a writer. Having the dream to be a writer is not new, but actually trying to more actively pursue it now is a little ironic. I was kicked out of my class because I could not deliver sufficient content for an academic paper. At the university writing has never been my strong suit. However, ideas have been graded more generously.  Presentations always were good so it is not that I’m not good with words.. However, writing is something entirely different then talking. And if you write like I do, like you are talking- only slightly slower because your fingers on the keyboard have to keep up- you bring yourself in a particularly messy situation. The truth however is that good writing has never been my aspiration. Rather I am looking for a creative way to express my ideas. To be surprised by what words, word combinations and exact coordination can deliver. What does it deliver? Poetry in prose. Not necessarily what they want you to give in academics. It is a fairly limited field, science and academics. It is so tedious and there is little space for new ideas. The ideas can exist as long as they fit in the format of being not to original a.k.a. being based on things other people have written. Excuse me. They are not based on what others have written but rather words of others are carefully selected to put an ‘Amen’  to your words. The truth is they might has well had very different ideas and would never agree with your argument. For that reason and the tediousness of trying to find words somewhere to keep your argument valid, I do not like basing my writing on that of others, or selectively quoting them just to make my argument more profound-looking.

 

Rather I like to be inspired. I love reading something and being surprised by the thoughts, ideas, arguments and poetry of sentences and paragraphs. And then a most wonderful process can begin, the process of association. The process of two things that previously had nothing in common except that they were seen by me, and connected. This association can happen throughout space and time, class and medium, culture and origin. That’s what I love about art history, some of the arguments may seem farfetched but connecting two artworks form different times and different cultures show that everything can come together, and that connecting two seemingly different things can create narratives beyond imagination. The funny thing is that there is always gravity inside institutions, disciplines and in me. I wanted to write that the idea of writing contests made me want to write things that do not come naturally from me. Fiction. Non-fiction about facts instead of ideas. Ultra-short stories or god forbid, really-really long stories. However this is what I can do. Starting somewhere and ending somewhere else. I don’t know if it’s good but it feels great. It feels like being a leave falling down the wind, gently being pulled down by gravity. The gravity within me.