DACMan

These painted wood cabinets may rank at the top of my all-time favorites list. Like other pieces that have to do with food storage or preparation, these pieces have a wonderful energy and bring warmth, color and beauty to any setting.

Their consistently simple box form is the backdrop for an endless variety of colors and styles of painting that were done on the front (and sometimes back) panels of these old grain storage bins.

The carefully selected pieces that we show in the Collection, were foundon my trip to Northern China last year.They range from 75 to 175 years old, and are comprised of one to six painted panels, all with original paint.They are all Mongolian, though many were collected in the current Gansu Province.Originally, part or all of the top of the cabinet would lift off to access the contents, though most have been modified to be more useful in our homes by using the original panels as doors or drawer fronts.

Much of the beauty of these pieces lies in the expressive country primitive painting on these panels and the patina, accumulated through decades of wear from daily use in Mongolian homes.

I have heard countless times, “You have a great eye,” a nice compliment in a collector’s world.

I’d like to take a moment to explore what is actually going on when someone is attracted to a collection of furniture, craft or art;  when a “great eye” is recognized. There are seen and unseen components to each piece, those which are visible and those which are sensed.

The visible includes the form, balance, color, condition, integrity, harmony, texture and quality of materials and craftsmanship. All these have to work together for a piece to be beautiful or pleasing.

The sensed components are more about the energy that a piece exudes, what the craftsman put into it as it was made, how it was used and by whom.

All these energies somehow reside in these objects, and it is that energy that often determines if we are attracted to a piece or not. Part of how I chose a piece is by how the piece feels, not only how it looks. Does it have good energy or not?

Just like with people, outward beauty doesn’t necessarily mean good energy.Each piece must pass the “seen” and “unseen” tests to end up at DAC. That means sorting through and passing up 1000 pieces for every one that comes to the Collection.

What is probably the largest, nearly invisible factor in our choice about Travel? Comfort, yes, comfort, the unsung slayer of rich experience, chance encounters, and other life giving adventures. I suggest that where we travel, how we travel, when, with whom, where we stay, what we do each day, what we eat etc. are all determined in part or wholly by the level of comfort or discomfort that each action will provide for or inflict on our bodies and emotions.

Back Road Breakdown in Sumba

When I want to be comfortable, there’s no place like home. It’s designed for comfort, as it should be. On the road, however, it’s different. Whenever I can, I curb my desire for comfort, which would otherwise overrule the possible rewards of small and large adventures and other incursions into the unknown. If an unknown path means I will be hot and sticky for longer than I would like, oh well. I may get home late and miss my nap and dinner – really, it’s OK. That wedding celebration in the village down the road that I was by chance invited to, was worth it. It is actually the fear of being uncomfortable that drives us rather than the actual discomfort.

I see that an inverse relationship exists between staying comfortable and experiencing meaningful travel, just as I think there’s an inverse relationship between comfort and growth, comfort and adventure, comfort and learning more about ourselves, comfort and aliveness. The more comfort (or fear of discomfort) the less fun, growth, chance meetings, great memories. The older I get, the more the inclination there is to choose comfort and the more vigilant I must be in choosing what I do. I remind myself to choose the unknown. The known is comfortable, (hotel room, villa etc.). Home is comfortable. Choose adventure, not the hotel pool and bar.

Tradtional Sumba Bamboo House Downstairs

Don’t misunderstand — I take comfort where I can get it. I love a great mattress as much as or more than the next guy, and I want to return home enlivened not exhausted. I just don’t want what informs my choices in travel to be about my ultimate comfort. I want my choices to be about experiencing life and the lives of other and the quest for all manner of beauty. Five stars aren’t in any way bad, they just tend to separate us from the lions share of the life, culture and people we are visiting. If I’m offered a cot with a family in a remote village for a night, I hope I’ll be smart enough to choose that over the Hyatt. What do I want to be ruled by, another night in a comfy hotel that I’ll forget before I get home, or sharing the home and food and family life of a Nias tribesman that I will remember and share for a lifetime? The quest for comfort kills countless possibilities.