KLIPPAN SOFA FROM IKEA £149.00 (not including replaceable covers)

This is one of the many things I bought from Ikea when I moved into the flat. (I've also got rugs, bookshelves, Compact disc stands and storage units from Ikea) In the right space this sofa looks suitably minimal but in my space, and no doubt thousands of flats and houses it probably looks out of place in a cluttered environment (most of the clutter being from Ikea). I prefer the plain white look. But it picks up various stains that are bound to be made on such a sofa where there are people like me. Sex, coffee, chocolate… For me, I don’t know why, with Ikea décor in the flat, also including my computer desk and chair, it’s not a world away to imagine that I am living in a plush pad in Malmo. This space is where I design houses or super-cities. I drink filtered water, wear sober colours, and eat minimal Japanese cuisine. This desire is totally indulgent and doesn’t mean anything more than what it is. It’s a step towards perfection that in reality I am far too sentimental, poor and lazy, to achieve. At the same time I’m finding the whole Ikea thing rather questionable, as the snob inside me has observed that like panel flooring and lava lamps, this whole home improvement thing has become too common and gone too far. Even joss sticks are tacky by comparison. Everyone’s crib is all so retro and kitsch these days. Everyone’s a wannabe minimalist, stylist, graphic designer, artist, and a property developer. Because of the clutter, my real space doesn’t do all that ambient music I have complied justice. The place is too messy.

I once worked with someone once who said that he often visits Ikea when he’s feeling depressed. It cheers him up. It’s rare for him, he says, to come out empty handed. He has to buy something, whether it’s a fish slice or a cardboard magazine rack. I love my sofa all the same. It might not be long enough to stretch my legs or to have a comfortable sleep but its simple enough. It wasn’t difficult to carry up two flights of stairs but it was a hassle for my brother to strap it to the roof rack. He reckoned the sight of it on his car embarrassed him but how could you be embarrassed by a Klippan sofa from Ikea?

Even if I succeeded in making my own life and home unquestionably neat by anyone’s standards, how would I go about tidying up the lives of others, the streets outside, the countries abroad, every single infrastructure and home, the habits and style of every human being? How could I possibly even begin to dream up and execute an in house style that takes in every living thing and space while also achieving the highest, neatest, efficient form of fashion, art, food, drink, culture, law, politics, environment, transport and health? I suppose the search for perfection should be like unrequited love. It’ll always be perfect but should exist in the imagination. Even if I could achieve the impossible it would probably leave me empty. What else would there be to live for? Indeed if the whole process of human existence is to reach perfection, then given the idea that we reach the unreachable, if we don't kill ourselves first, what then? Would the endgame of human existence revolve around a new virtual reality, where we devolve, creating experiences and experiments to discover what it was like to have limbs, to be hungry, to have desires, to have disorders, to solve the problem of boredom? I need to acquire as much as possible to clear my mind, and the need to desire, to possess.