|Canvas and leather bags, with metal buckles, front and back|
Canvas and leather objects have complex sensory depth to them--sight, sound, smell, color, texture, flex, weight--that they have become associated with specific memories and even people, for me.
One of my nylon backpacks has been to some incredible places. But for some reason, in itself, it doesn't evoke specifics for me. For example, I took it out a few weeks ago looking for a piece of equipment I thought might be stored in it, and found a trail tag from Havasupai in the Grand Canyon a few years ago. The tag instantly reminded me of that hike and overnight, but why didn't the bag itself? It was there, shouldn't it have brought all those associations back to me just by being held in my hand? Nylon sheds memories like it sheds rain, I guess.
Canvas, leather, and steel buckles, though, they make me think of canoe trips and north woods. Dusty desert and morning dew. Campfires and cooking over them. Mud and ferns. Crickets, sounds of night. They remind me of things I've done, and hint and what yet might happen. Nylon just doesn't do that for me.
|I would much rather look at this all day than velcro (or dashboard)|