Art Heals: Anthromorphism

Days became weeks became months, and now here we are, still best friends with our couches.  Never before have we lived in such intimate relation to our furniture.  Pre-quarantine, if you can remember that far back, the objects in our homes were taken for granted, there when we needed them, otherwise pretty much ignored. One of the few pieces of great literature I have memorized is the following poem:

As I was sitting in my chair,

I knew the bottom wasn’t there,

Nor legs nor back,

But I just sat,

Ignoring little things like that.

Unless the appliance broke down, the upholstery ripped, or the vase shattered, my surroundings existed merely as background to the actions of my life.  Until now. The new reality of quarantine has awakened a cognitive dissonance in my brain, in which I have fallen in love with my couch.  This malady is well known to psychologists and has been extensively studied. Archaeologist Steven Mithen submits that in the Upper Paleolithic era, hunters began to empathically identify with animals in order to better predict their movements in their quest to bring home the bacon (or beef, or mastodon; not sure about my Paleolithic beasties).  Modern psychologists have found that anthropomorphism functions as a coping strategy for loneliness, when other human connections are not available. Hence, me and my couch.  And as the French say, ce n’est ne pas ma faute. Psychologist Adam Waytz and his team developed a theory of anthropomorphism that posits when the factors “effectance, the drive to interact with and understand one’s environment, and sociality, the need to establish social connections” are high, we are likely to humanize things.  Add in such factors as the need for cognition and uncertainty avoidance, and that desk chair becomes your new best friend.  How long will this last?  Will we, when we can go out again, share brunch and a hug with friends, share the sidewalk with strangers, will we abandon our highboys and settees to the dust bunnies that previously were their only companions?  Or will we remember fondly the comfort they gave us in our forlornness?  Give the gift of reupholstery.

This is Silla Gris, by the Mexican artist Martin Pacheco.  Art Heals.