The pantry is the size of a large garage, and the entire space is suffused with an even and shadowless light. On first glance everything inside appears a different tone of off-tan neutral—Kardashian greige. The long side of the room is lined with a floor-to-ceiling grid of rectangular cubbies stretching the entire horizontal expanse like a spreadsheet (no terminating edge is visible in any of the photos; perhaps they go on forever). The shelves are a muted ash color, almost identical to Ikea’s white stained oak veneer finish, but one must assume they’re either solid wood or at least high-quality hardwood veneer. Recessed in the underside of each cubby is a fluorescent or LED light strip, which casts a cool daylight glow on the contents of the shelf below.
The contents are confusing, at least to the untrained eye. Repeated sets of open top wooden boxes, wide-woven square baskets, small lazy susans, and clear canisters with brushed steel or wooden lids are all evenly spaced across the shelves like someone has selected all and hit “distribute horizontally.” Every container is labeled with all-caps white text in an ostentatious grotesque font, perhaps Century Gothic. Within the vessels (layers within layers) is nestled the food itself, packaged goods on the bottom shelves and decanted bulk items above. The theme is multiples, the theme is repetition. Each can of beans is accompanied by ten doppelgangers, gold and red and kelly green labels blaring out in concert. The brands are mainstream—Del Monte canned veggies, Uncle Ben’s minute rice, five identical bottles of Newman’s Italian dressing. The clear canisters of decanted food repeat themselves too: SPAGHETTI SPAGHETTI BUCATINI BUCATINI.
https://dilettantearmy.com/articles/merchandizing-the-void
youth class culture: Steven Threadgold 