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If you’re one of many who live facing a busy road aghast with passers-by, the constant combat for sufficient privacy may be familiar. Half height shutters, frosted glass and drawn net curtains are often the go-to solution. However, you may be like myself and cherish any exterior light in favour of discretion from the outside world. Sometimes it feels too confrontational for strangers to see our not-so perfect reality, perhaps slightly distorted when compared to the angle in which we place our social media presence.
As a curious and inquisitive designer, I enjoy understanding how people genuinely live within their homes, how they move around the space, how they truly exist when the spotlight may be off. We as aspirational beings sometimes design our spaces for a life we desire to be interested by and exist within because of external influences.
Only last week I returned from Amsterdam, a small district called De Pjip to be specific. The city is well renowned for its Dutch Baroque tall and narrow facades that line the many canals, amongst many other things. Before visiting I feared I had overly romanticised my expectations, due for a case of ‘Paris Syndrome’, a grievance expressed by tourists deeply disillusioned by the stark contrast between their idealized expectations of Paris and the reality. Fortunately, I was pleasantly surprised, on top of my high expectations.
When exploring I tend to steer clear of the tourist orientated activities, so instead found myself freely roaming the streets, speaking to the odd passer-by, making a pitstop in the bustling coffee shops along the way, dodging cyclists where possible. Personally, I found the Dutch to be a rather open and welcoming group of people unlike ourselves in the South of England. Even perched on bicycles, riders are exposed rather than hidden behind car doors and window reflections. Their existence is constant in that of the people around them. Their open nature seemed to continue into their domestic life. Often when passing by the many apartments that hug the canal-side, I found myself observing Amsterdammers’ homes, uninhibited by the divide of a curtain or frosted window, personalities and behaviours expressed without shame, fear, or isolation. Odd to my English mind, the transparency seemed to evoke a feeling of trust amongst the neighbourhood and emblematically blurred the harsh lines of public (any man’s land) and private property that we may be used to. Often, I would catch my mother, who joined me on the trip, peering into to the kitchens and lounges adjacent, in awe of their decoration, ornaments and refined taste. I was guilty of this too.
The Dutch have a saying, ‘doe maar normaal, dan doe je al gek genoeg’ meaning ‘just act normal, it’s already crazy enough.’ I hear you asking, what’s crazy about not owning curtains. Embodied in the mindset of the culture are elements of ‘Calvinism’ which largely influenced the beginnings of Dutch society. Contrary to Catholicism, Calvinism considers our fate to be pre-decided with sin inevitable. Faith would be determined though discipline and self-control amongst other factors. Surveillance ensures ‘normality’. In the current day, despite under half of the population conforming to a religion, the mindset of Calvinism still plays a part in Dutch society and its extroverted culture. Although we may perceive this as living on a stage with an audience of glaring neighbours in anticipation for your failure or mishaps, the Dutch seem to take this in their stride as they simply do not consider their lifestyle worth hiding, each individual’s unimportance doesn’t warrant privacy, nor the blocking of valuable light.
Not dissimilar to the climate of which we are used to, often days are over-cast and ultimately quite gloomy. The Dutch Baroque architecture built before the invention of electricity boasts tall windows to ensure as much light can enter as possible, and the adoration of natural light is as much part of the Dutch culture as the lack of curtains. A larger aperture makes its absence more noticeable.
Although this way of life may seem slightly alien, the ideology of a ‘public life’ is becoming ever more normalised here in the UK and around the world. Disappearing are the days of curtain twitchers disguised by net-curtains, replaced by contemporary extensions and home renovations featuring large apertures. Although often overlooked, our novel approach to an exposed living style comes from a place of vanity and pride for our new home renovations. The neighbours are welcome to see our modern, open plan living styles!
In comparison to two decades ago, our daily lives are becoming increasingly public through the introduction of digital platforms. When once upon a time, our holiday pictures would be pushed on the unfortunates who happened to ‘pop-round’, now these are dispensable to our extremely extended circles including the randomer you met in the pub smoking area in 2016. As a society, not to indifferent from our Dutch neighbours, we are already becoming rather open. The only difference between the life we post on our social platforms and that which the neighbours and bypassers may see is our own filtration. As time progresses and the censorship of our true lifestyle and bad habits diminishes, along with the increase in window and door opening sizes, can we anticipate the eventual elimination of curtains in the UK as well?
