I was writing something in the comment section that deserves to be an article, with some additions:

I definitely subscribe more to the “clean” line of thinking – don’t clutter the place with extraneous crap, avoid things that don’t actually improve your quality of life, and if something doesn’t do anything good for you, it probably just drags you down. I had to move too many times, and that’s a good way to learn that stuff that normally doesn’t get in the way but isn’t really useful either still needs to be packed and moved, and as such is a drag. However, there’s a serious difference between that, and trying to get rid of almost everything. Sure, you can say you don’t need winter clothing in the summer, but when the winter comes you’re going to remember what you needed that heavy jacket/coat for. When I’m not doing heavy lifting with my computer, I think that Macbook Air is all I need, but then I get to import lots of pictures and a desktop machine with good cooling shows what I bought it for. One can say things don’t make you happy. Sure, my car doesn’t make me happy, but not having one would sure make me miserable. You don’t get to be happy from things; however, believing that things are here to make you happy is stupid nonsense. Things are here to prevent hardship and misery. They are here to help you do something useful. If they serve some additional purpose, such as look good while being functional, the better. Having a sharp knife never made me happy. Having a dull knife, or not having an extra knife while they were all in the dishwasher sure annoyed me. But the difference between a perfectly functional knife, and some fancy Japanese $500 knife doesn’t mean shit to me. I buy them cheaply in the local mall, and I have good sharpening stones to maintain them. As long as it’s sharp and good, I don’t care about it being fancy. Same with the dishes – they are all the cheapest, locally available brand, and if we break something, it’s easily replaced. No fancy handmade porcelain and shit. We buy it either in Ikea or the local store. Cheap, simple, functional. That’s how I perceive minimalism – don’t waste money and mental energy on stuff that doesn’t matter, because it’s impossible to get it to be better with any kind of investment once you get past the basics. Essentially, get fancy coffee, serve it in the cheapest generic cups. Fancy coffee can improve things, fancy cups can’t, because the basic cups are already really good. Also, there’s minimalism in reducing the amount of overhead introduced by unnecessary fancification of things. Get stuff that you can easily service and replace. Get as much stuff from the same place as possible, because it simplifies delivery, maintenance and replacement. I’ll get furniture from Ikea, for instance, not because I’m much of a fan, but because it makes it simple enough and it’s good enough and once I’m done with it I can do something more important. Also, buying stuff from Apple simplifies things a lot – it reduces the amount of choices that don’t actually contribute to anything, the stuff is well made, lasts long and so on. So, minimalism in a sense of reducing the amount of shit you have to deal with it is something I definitely subscribe to. That doesn’t necessarily mean less things, but it means dealing with unimportant aspects of things less. For instance, trying to get things to be fancy, beyond the layer of functionality, is an incredible waste of energy, money and time. For instance, I don’t have fancy shoes, I have generic Adidas sneakers that are comfortable and good, and I know the exact model and size so I order replacements online once I wear them down. Same with clothes – I get good generic stuff that’s easy to find and replace. Basically, I like the Bauhaus concept of industrial design, form following function, and mass production reducing cost. Sure, I like fancy here and there, but for the most part, I prefer to have the most generic mid-range version of a thing, because that one is most likely to be good, easy to find, cheap to buy and replace, and so on.

I was thinking about this more, and concluded that there are some exceptions to my general rule of just getting shit done and not wasting money and effort on pointless fancification. Those exceptions come into play when something fancy actually means something to me, or I have it to create an impression that serves some useful purpose, and creating a wrong impression would cause more problems than it would solve.

The most important exceptions are cars and watches. In both cases, I will go beyond the minimum of function, and rather treat their symbolism of status as an important aspect of function.

You see, it doesn’t matter whether I care about those things or not. Other people care about them and notice them subconsciously, and I need to do the necessary minimum to “pass” if I want to aviod hassle that might require inordinate amounts of mental focus and energy to break through. I want to create an impression of someone you have to take seriously, but not someone who intentionally provokes envy and spite with ostentatious behaviour. I also don’t want to waste money on status symbols, at least not beyond the point where it suffices to accomplish the intended purpose. It’s a delicate dance. Status symbols have a nasty tendency of backfiring more often than not, because fake people tend to overdo it. You can’t fake class, and you can’t fake the feeling you have when you know you have money. But there are things that a person with money and class could reasonably be expected to do if they wish to avoid ostentatious displays; and then there are things such a person would not do. For instance, wearing a tacky gold-plated supermarket-brand watch is one of those things. But a very rich and classy person could wear an 1980s Casio. Also, if people know or suspect you are tight with money, ostentatious displays will instantly backfire. There are very, very few instances where showing that you have money will benefit you. It’s actually the opposite from what poor people, who want to pretend to be wealthy, think. More often than not, behaving frugally, rationally and “low key” will indicate money and class. Ostentatious behaviour, to me, indicates serious money issues. That can mean not having money, or being stuck somewhere in your past where you didn’t have money, and trying to overcompensate. In any case, it isn’t a good look.

So, my paradigm of prioritising function and getting shit done sometimes means matching some social expectations closely enough to avoid problems. It also includes some level of indulgence. If combining reasonable indulgence with functionality manages to make it easier for me to accomplish my goals, the better. The curve that connects the dots might in fact meet the requirements of minimalism, but the way I see it, minimalism can be an emergent property of trying to get shit done with the least amount of friction and issues, and not necessarily something that has anything to do with striving to have less things.

Internet is full of videos and articles on the theme of “if you had to take one camera and one lens and use it for the next ten years, what would it be”. Or it’s “if you had to have only one computer, watch, pocket knife, car, pen…, what would it be”.

It always implies some kind of a “less is more” situation – basically, when you’re forced to use limited tools, you compensate with creativity and the results tend to be better than if you subscribe to “more is better” paradigm. Sure, sometimes. However, for the most part that’s all nonsense.

When you actually have a limiting situation, it’s not a choice between three different macbooks, a desktop computer and a gaming Windows laptop, and deciding to keep just one. It’s a situation where you have the cheapest possible computer that has minimal functionality for your daily tasks, and when you have to do something harder, it all starts to crumble under your fingers. Ask me how I know.

I had minimalist setups because I was poor, not because I subscribed to some stupid post-modernist minimalist paradigm where you own nothing and are happy. I owned nothing because it was an actual situation, and not some bullshit for YouTubers. Extreme poverty introduces its own kind of minimalism, and trust me, it doesn’t make you happy. It doesn’t reduce mental clutter – on the contrary.

Having a Macbook Pro that connects to Apple Studio Display with a single cable, with clean wireless mouse and keyboard setups, isn’t a realistic minimalist situation. Not having a desk and instead putting the cheap bulky computer you got used on the flimsy kitchen desk you found in the apartment you’re renting cheaply, that’s realistic minimalism. Working with whatever camera and lens you could get for the least possible amount of money because you couldn’t afford anything better, that’s realistic minimalism. It’s not a choice between ten excellent lenses and artificially limiting yourself to one. It’s using the one you found for 25 EUR on ebay because you had 25 EUR plus shipping, that’s realistic minimalism.

Minimalism isn’t a choice of one watch; minimalism is when you only have one watch, and it’s cheap because cheap is all you could afford. And by cheap I mean 50 EUR. Any by 50 EUR I mean you had to save for several months to be able to afford a 50 EUR watch, and you think it’s unjustifiable luxury. Ask me how I know.

When you’re poor, minimalism means you can’t replace your jeans, which have holes on them, because you had to replace your shoes first, because they too have holes on them. True minimalism isn’t a clean desk setup because you are decluttering. It’s an empty flimsy desk with nothing on it because that’s what you have.

When I see how people justify their minimalist setups, I can’t believe the nonsense I’m hearing. Like, they are using single-task devices such as typewriters or dedicated computers with no networking and only minimal software, so that they aren’t interrupted by all sorts of notifications and social media while they write. Excuse me, but that’s a matter that requires mental training, and not different equipment choices. When I open a word processor and write something, I can have literally dozens of things open in the background and I don’t notice any of them. I actually don’t hear what my wife is saying to me in person, and I have to ask her to repeat it later, because when I’m concentrating on writing, nothing else exists. It goes to such extremes that I can freeze behind the computer and get sick later because it was cold and I didn’t register it, because what I was doing took literally 100% concentration, to the point that I don’t register pain, hunger, hot, cold, noise, earthquake or aerial bombardment when I’m working. I don’t care about minimalism because when I’m working, I don’t perceive anything on my desk, or on my computer besides the program I’m using for the work I’m doing. I don’t need to have a clean desk with the smallest possible number of items on it, because otherwise my mind would be cluttered. On the contrary – my mind works like a switch, because that’s how I trained myself. When I’m doing something, nothing else exists; not because it’s not there, but because selective concentration is not a matter of having less things. It’s about focusing on just one thing, despite being surrounded by the entire world of things.

There’s a word in Croatian, “izdrkavanje”, which would literally translate as a wank job, but which means performative actions, things you do so that the audience would perceive how awesome you are. That’s how I perceive the performative minimalism. Its purpose is convincing other people that you have an organized mind because you have a clean desk from Ikea, with just a laptop, monitor, a wireless keyboard and a wireless mouse on it, with a possible addition of fake grass in a pot from Ikea. People who have such setups usually have nothing better to do than waste time on such performative minimalism, where an actually focused person would have all sorts of stuff lying around, while they are focused on just that one thing they are doing, and they don’t have time and energy to waste on performative actions intended for impressing anyone.

They usually say that minimalism reduces the overhead of choice – for instance, you don’t have to think about which lens you’re going to use because you only have one. Oh, the agony of choice; you need to pick one for that day. How horrible. If choice is hard, I just take what’s already on the camera, because if it mattered, the choice would be simple. What pencil or pen to choose? The one that’s closest to the paper, usually. If it actually matters, then I go to the pencil cup and pick a more adequate one.

I’m not advocating for chaos and lack of organization and tidiness. I’m saying that a minimalist setup is performative nonsense that takes more time and energy to maintain than a reasonably cluttered setup, and shows that your energy goes into showing other people how minimalist, tidy and clean you are, rather than getting shit done as efficiently as possible.