If I were an interior decorator, my trademark would be unrestrained minimalism. I would deal in shades of white and pastel set off by strategically placed shafts of natural light. There would be no ornamentation in my rooms – only clean lines and curves and the subtle interplay of colours, serving as a backdrop, a complementary scene, to the functional components of the environment. At most, a vase here, a bouquet there, to serve as an offset, a juxtaposition of non-functional form with functional formlessness. Windows would serve as the portals, the gateways, to riotous, verdant variety outside, whether it be the tops of trees, an urban landscape, or the serene vistas of ocean or mountain.
I was inspired by a visit to Lim’s in Holland Village, a shop dedicated to selling all kinds of odd antiques, geegaws and keepsakes, ranging from jewel boxes to huge, life-size statues of indeterminate origin. Not that I don’t appreciate their aesthetic value to someone appropriately inclined, but I would never stand for such gaudy ornamentation in any abode of mine. I abhor clutter. I like the feeling of being in an aerie, of being high up. Such will be my future abode. No clutter, no geegaws. An Apple-product like homogeneity, made individual by the unique touch of my minimalist aesthetic sense and the functional amenities that I will of course fill the house with.
One thing in that shop did catch my attention, though. Wind chimes hold a kind of appeal for me. The pleasing, musical chimes they produce signal wind, and connote peace, serenity, and a feeling of being on high. They may offer one a sense of excitement, as forerunners of the storm, being the sense of calm that precedes it. For no storm comes without the period of almost eerie serenity that is characterized by the stately billowing of the clouds assembling for their final dance through the skies, and the cool wind that sends them along on this majestic journey. It is the wind, and its evocative, musical power, that I like, and wind chimes merely crystallize and focus that sense of serenity into something tangible to be experienced and appreciated.
***
grin. sounds like the kind of house i would like to live in! maybe you should become an interior designer instead
sounds very much like a shrine dedicated to the cult of steve jobs
‘unrestrained minimalism’ seems an odd turn of phrase; minimalism is in some ways the essence of restraint unless one is of a zen-like persuasion… rather perhaps you might think of ‘uncompromising minimalism’ or ‘almost-uncompromising aesthetic minimalism’ or something.