As any artist, regardless of medium, I am always seeking external inspiration to direct my design. One that I regularly return to, and one of my great loves, is mid-century modern residential architecture.
The modern architectural movement, gernerally accredited to Walter Gropius, a german architect, was a response to an age when architecture was adorned with intricities and embellishments. And, as we as humans generally do, responded drastically by moving to the other end of the design spectrum.
The world was coming off the great second world war and was seeking definitive change. This manifested itself in the place nearest and dearest to our hearts: the home. Up sprung the simplistic worker housing of Europe, which eventually steamrolled into the movement as it is now known. Architectural attributes of the time period, at their most generic descriptions, generally include open floor plans, horizontal movement, minimalist layouts, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a paradoxical combination or natural and man-made building materials (metal, leather, slate, etc.)
Critics of the design often argue that these spaces lack the warmth and comfortability a home should exude. Arguments were, and are, that the structures we cold, sterile skeletons. Granted, much of the furniture of this time period was based on form over function. But, I tend to disagree. To me, these homes follow a natural aesthetic and, more often than not, actually hold a warmth that homes of past and post eras can not attain.
As I stated before, these homes made use of a natural beauty. Floors of slate met up with walls made of granite, each with their own natural patterns and textures. Simple wood grains with smooth faces covered walls, cabinets and furniture. The ultimate goal of these designers was not to create a sterile space. More, to blur the line between outside and in. The focus was being pulled away from hulling up in dark, den-like sanctums, and drawing the eye outward toward natural light, and natural color and texture. Walls now became windows. Overhead lighting turned to sunlight. Some architects even went so far as to move the structural aspect of the house outside the home, as an exoskeleton. These are not the attributes of cold and sterile homes, but homes that exude life and, ultimately, speak to the glory of Creation.
The purpose of the home (just as is the christian life) is to manifest the Gospel to the world.
While I do believe that much of the debate for/against post-war modern design falls more in the lines of aesthetic taste and function, there is an aspect of its minimalist characteristic that does reach to the level of our Christian responsibilities.
We, as humans, are forgetful people. In response, we all cling to tangible reminders of the important facets of our lives. The Church has done it for thousands of years. Iconography and symbolism are crucial parts of the Church and our own personal relationships with God. The Cross is our reminder of the love God has for us, and the grace that He has extended.
However, in our homes, as sinners, we often pile up our symbols and sentiments, creating clutter. I Corinthians 14:33 says, 'For God is not a God of disorder, but a God of peace.' As is the case with everything we do, by creating a home that steers away from the potential for clutter on a spacial and foundational level, we make a statement about what we believe about Christ. No different than the idea that looking at a man's checkbook will tell you what he worships. The 'sterility' of a modern home places an emphasis on the foretelling of eternal life after death. Not necessarily in the sense of self-deprivation. 'God has given us all things richly to enjoy.' (I Timothy 6:17) But through the bold statement of the lack of priority on possession. Arguably, this does create potential for an unwelcoming home, which is in contrast to the Biblical charge of hospitality.
In no way do I mean to take away from the traditional country home and say that it is poorly designed/decorated or in contrast to what the homes of Christians should look like. On the contrary, many of the traditional homes, of families that have so graciously had us in, are full of character, life, and warmth.
To borrow an excerpt from the blog of one of the most hospitable homemakers I have ever met:
We are clearly taught in Scripture that we are to present an open door to other people, as Christian families--"to show hospitality with murmuring" (I Peter 4:9) and to be a "lover of hospitality" (Titus 1:8).
"Christian homes manifest the Gospel. The gospel isn't just a spiritual reality. The Word became flesh and bone, and the gospel becomes our porch, dining room, and kitchen. The driving desire of the gospel is "my life for yours." Our desire should be to have this love transform everything we do, room by room, examining each part of our homes in light of Scripture. The claims of God are always total, and this is evident on the doorposts and in a sink full of dishes. Self-centeredness destroys in monotonously similar ways. Giving up life for another produces a harvest of kindness and mercy. Hospitality and household questions should always begin with, "is this my life for yours?"
~ from the back cover of My Life For Yours, Douglas Wilson
Whatever aesthetic may be your preference, create a home that reflects your love for family, for hospitality and for God.
