The secret to happiness, you see, is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less.
-Socrates
Since launching the blog in January, several people have contacted me and claimed that they are ineligible to participate in the project. They explained that their refrigerators do not display many things and are, thus, devoid of meaning. Au contraire, mon frere ("on the contrary, my brother"). Absence is just as telling as presence.
Over the holiday, I was around many family members, who inquired about the state of my life. I informed them of the Other White Cube Project, which sparked many stories. For example, my father told me that, growing up, his mother (my grandmother) insisted on keeping things off the refrigerator. She preferred the sleek, pristine surface of the refrigerator, which, to her, symbolized wholesomeness and cleanliness. For my grandmother and many others, white has represented purity. Culturally, the symbolism is observable in wedding ceremonies, religious iconography, and other moral imagery. But, there is more to white than purity. White is also about privacy.
My grandmother raised her two sons (my dad and uncle) in the 1950s, during the Cold War. The period is remembered as one of liturgical convention and conservative mores, and I believe my grandmother's refrigerator refinement reflected cultural attitudes regarding privacy and proper manners. Even today, my grandmother has only revealed snippets of her life. Only as of last summer did she share with me her memories of childhood, college, and courtship with my grandfather. My grandmother is not callous or hard-bitten; it takes tenderness to teach kindergarten for 28 years. She has a reserved personality, which I now see as perceptible in her choice to leave her refrigerator surfaces empty. In the same way that a simple dress complements a woman's modesty, my grandmother's refrigerator demonstrated her sense of privacy.
My grandmother's reticent refrigerator passed on to my uncle, who was the first to ask, "what if I don't put anything on my refrigerator?" Whereas my grandmother left items off her refrigerator for privacy, my uncle does it as a result of his modest lifestyle. My uncle has enjoyed his life outdoors and in the streets. He has a house but it is not his habitat. As a result, he has little clutter and only a few things on his refrigerator. Once again, absence is just as telling as presence.
I am a third-generation refrigerator purist. I have nothing on my refrigerator. Since graduating from high school, I have moved many times, holding an address for no longer than a year - approximately 13 apartments in 6 cities. To adapt to my itinerant life, I found myself keeping and buying fewer and fewer things. Gradually, I discovered and became involved in the minimalist movement - a philosophy of life around owning only the essentials. For me, clutter is an impediment, and, for this reason, I do not place anything on my refrigerator. Leaving my refrigerator blank is an expression of the way I live. I do not judge or think unfairly of others who have fully decorated refrigerators, but, for me and my lifestyle, mo' magnets, mo' problems.