I began thinking about blinds, those wise contraptions above windows. The other day I sat down to write and the afternoon sun was gushing through the window. The desk was hot as a frying pan, the papers were glaring. Everything was white; sizzling, dazzling, searing obnoxious white. Not like heaven, like hell. It was unworkable. Enraged by the brightness, I fished for the blind cord and tugged and wa-la, let there be light — the right amount of light.
Soon I thought of all the hotels rooms I’ve stayed in, and how 75% of them have had those wall-length windows which also let in boatloads of light. You have to button the curtains all the way before bed or you’ll be sorry later. It’s such a dramatic moment, throwing open hotel curtains in the morning. The light is so crisp and cutting. It’s like a Hopper painting sprung to life, or a spotlight searing a dark stage. I pity the people still trying to sleep. Have you ever kicked over an old log and seen beetles run for cover? It’s like that…you’ve done something cruel, and no amount of burrowing under pillows is going to change the fact: the windows are open, the day has begun, and the continental breakfast downstairs ends in 5 minutes.
Anyhow, blinds prompted this thought which boils down to something simple: vision — whether physical, intellectual, or otherwise, depends on the right proportion of light. Too much information can be as staggering as too little.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, draw the blinds.
show & tell 