There are wild things and there are tame things.
We find the latter in the shop windows of identical high streets all over the world. Tame things are like domesticated animals. These objects have been housebroken for our daily use; styled to fit in with passing fads. Like exotic animals collected in a zoo, they tempt us with their outward display, with their idiosyncrasies. But we feel their aloneness and when we look them in the eye, we see the abyss that exists between us. These creatures, stripped of all power or context, belong nowhere. Disconnected from their environment and themselves, they are incapable of relating as one soul to another. The light in their eyes seems to have been permanently extinguished.
Wild things, on the other hand, have a light that shines from within. There is no need to market them, on the contrary. They refuse to fit into the chain of commerce. Light radiates from their core, from the essence of their materiality: an almost tangible aura surrounds them and connects us to them. They demand to be used but not as status symbols: as commonplace things.
If we are to sense and understand a wild thing then we must learn to feel and see again with more than our eyes and our brains alone. Wild things speak to our entire physical being and to the interconnection between us and everything else. We can feel the difference between a tamed object and a wild thing in the same way that we can sense the sadness of a caged animal that has lost the essential life force of a wild one.’
Bouchez, H., A Wild Thing, Essays on things, nearness and love, APE, 2017, pp. 36-37