Unconsumption means the accomplishment of properly recycling your old cellphone, rather than the guilt of letting it sit in a drawer.
Unconsumption means the thrill of finding a new use for something that you were about to throw away.
Unconsumption means the pleasure of using a service like Freecycle (or Craigslist, Goodwill, or Salvation Army) to find a new home for the functioning DVD player you just replaced, rather than throwing it in the garbage.
Unconsumption means enjoying the things you own to the fullest – not just at the moment of acquisition.
Unconsumption means the pleasure of using a pair of sneakers until they are truly worn out – as opposed to the nagging feeling of defeat when they simply go out of style.
Unconsumption means feeling good about the simple act of turning off the lights when you leave the room.
Unconsumption is not about the rejection of things, or the demonization of things. It’s not a bunch of rules.
Unconsumption is an idea, a set of behaviors, a way of thinking about consumption itself from a new perspective.
Unconsumption is free.
Founder & Editor:Rob Walker, journalist, Savannah, GA
Editorial & Community Manager: Molly Block, marketing and business development geek, Houston, TX
TIME magazine reports on a time-honored tradition at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology: the annual hurling of a broken piano off a dormitory roof.
The tradition began in 1972, when students living in the Baker House dorm had a broken piano on their hands and, as any rational group of intelligent undergraduates would, decided to push it off the building’s roof.
The tradition has become such a smash hit that after the dust settles, onlookers scramble to grab splintered wood, keys, hammers, strings and any other errant debris strewn across the dorm’s lawn. Astronaut Catherine Coleman, an MIT alumna, even took one piano’s key to the International Space Station during her six-month stay.
Those [pianos] chosen for the drop are generally already broken, often donated by generous folks who, understandably, have no idea what else to do with a broken piano sitting in their home.
In fact, the campus tradition has turned into something of a drop-off service for unwanted pianos. Eager owners contact the students to have their irreparable and cumbersome instruments taken off their hands.