PRODUCT DESIGN · LONDON
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STUDIO / 082024

I have to return some videotapes

An emergency kit for humanity

An emotion kit for a future increasingly lived through digital platforms. I Have to Return Some Videotapes brings analogue objects into a sealed case, asking what we lose when everyday actions become effortless.

A transparent wooden-framed kit containing cassette tapes, letters and small analogue objects
Type
Speculative design / emotion kit
Research
Two weeks without smart devices
Materials
Wood, transparent panels & flour coating
Year
2024
Read the project documentation ↗

Two weeks in analogue

For two weeks, I stepped away from smart devices and used physical tools for everyday tasks. Typing, listening and finding my way became slower, more deliberate experiences.

A desk arranged around a typewriter, radio and paper calendar.
Writing with a typewriter, dictionary and notebook.
Keeping time with a clock radio and a paper calendar.
Listening to a record as a physical ritual.
Finding my way through London with a printed map.

A letter takes time

Letters made communication tangible: gathering addresses, choosing paper, typing, sealing an envelope and waiting for a reply. These small acts of preparation helped shape the kit’s focus on effort and anticipation.

Paper address records prepared for correspondence.
Choosing paper and envelopes for the letters.
Sealed envelopes beside typed drafts.
A letter laid out before sending.

Everyday life, recorded

The photographs also record the everyday setting of the experiment: cooking, shared meals, music and conversations. A small tape recorder and a film camera offered physical ways to keep those moments.

Preparing ingredients by hand.
Cooking and setting food aside.
A shared meal during the project.
A tape recorder at the table.
Objects left on the table after a gathering.
A conversation on the terrace.
The terrace table, recorded on film.
An evening by the fire.

From observation to object

Handwritten notes brought together conversations, observations and early ideas. I explored how the effort within an action could become part of a designed object, rather than something to remove.

Reflecting on conversations and everyday experiences.
Developing themes from the research.
Early concepts exploring effort, time and interaction.

The effort is the experience

I began by living without modern smart devices for two weeks. Writing letters, using a typewriter and waiting for things to arrive made me notice the time between an action and its outcome. The attraction was not simply to old objects, but to the effort, anticipation and memories surrounding them.

The finished kit, front view
The transparent case seen from the side

Small acts of care

The kit gathers blank cassette and microcassette tapes, an envelope, paper for addresses and phone numbers, and an instruction manual. A painkiller, a “secret potion” and a syringe form part of its speculative emergency-kit language. Together, these objects invite physical acts of recording, writing and remembering.

Cassette tapes and small objects arranged inside the kit
A closer view of the analogue recording formats
An envelope and paper for personal correspondence
The Human Condition Restoration Kit label

Break it to begin

The case has no ordinary opening: it must be broken to reach the contents. That deliberate obstacle makes access a decision rather than an automatic gesture. The effort of opening becomes the first experience the kit asks its owner to remember.

The sealed kit and its transparent front
The frame, fastening details and enclosed objects

Making the frame

I experimented with a traditional Swedish flour-based wood coating, applying eight coats and testing the finish in rain. Nails and screws hold the frame together with minimal adhesive, leaving the materials and the way they meet visible.

Building and coating the wooden frame in the workshop
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