Jackie here. It’s a musing-type morning: Indianapolis has taken a sour plunge into less-than-30-degree weather (after reaching 75 on Wednesday—two days ago), and I’m still propped up in my bed with my laptop. In my house, my laptop is probably better known as Jackie’s Morning Coffee, the thing I need to drag myself from the pleasant bonds of sleep, so Laptop and I are often together even before I get up to go to the bathroom each morning.
So I am musing because musing seems appropriate for a warm sit in bed on a moody Friday morning. And I am thinking about truth windows.
I first heard about truth windows from my husband, who read about them here, on the ever-interesting BLDGBLOG. What are they? Simply, a truth window is a false window cut into a wall that reveals what is behind the wall—what the building is made of. I love the little irony in that it’s a false window that allows for the truth to be revealed. I’m also fascinated by the way bringing something—in this case, the innards of our walls—into the light is a way for us to understand more of the essential being of that thing and, even more, this previously sight-unseen thing makes me think of more sight-unseens. As I stare at the straw stuffing revealed by the window in the original post, I think of the builders that placed this stuffing inside the walls of the house. I think of the day on which that wall was raised.
One would think that revealing the inside of a wall would simply answer a question (what’s in there?), but I am finding it forces my mind to raise more and more and more questions.
When I was younger (and dumber), I stated the following:
“Why would you ever buy an old thing when you could have a new thing for the same price?”
My mother recently reminded me that I once said this, and I responded that I hadn’t forgotten, that I had laughed at myself over the utter ridiculousness of that statement with how I now shop, decorate, think about the physical world I surround myself with.
I love old things, and maybe I love them even more when I think about how they can be truth windows to other times, places, people, as well as windows revealing me, their collector and assembler. Perhaps that is why we labor so long over the decoration of our homes, because we know what it can ultimately say about who we are. Perhaps we are justified in doing so.