Give me space, lots of space (and a cozy place)

Probably the most frustrating thing about these blogs is that the questions can't be answered briefly in a typical blog length, if we really want to provide details and examples that add richness to our answers. On the other hand, I tend to overwrite, so everyone reading my blogs, probably are breathing a sigh of relief that I have parameters.

On to the questions....

When we are children, we quickly learn when something is dangerous. As we reach towards a hot stove, our parents sharply (and loudly) tell us, “Don’t touch!” If we do, we find out in short order that we’d better listen to our parents.

In the same we, we learn cultural behaviors. We learn formally when our parents speak to us sharply to correct our behavior (or give us “the look”), informally when we model their behavior and technically, when they teach us to look people in the eye when we talk to them. When we don’t follow the accepted cultural patterns we are hurt socially, just as we hurt physically when we touch a hot stove.

In “Hidden Dimensions,” Edward Hall particularly focuses on cultural responses to time and space, and how those differences can cause misunderstandings. For example, to Americans, space is something between two objects that is empty or something taken up by a tangible object. To the Japanese, space is every bit as tangible as a physical object. It is considered an “intervening interval” called the ma and is named. This plays out in Japanese gardens and mapping. Whereas we name the streets to help people get to a final destination, the Japanese name the points, which serve as destinations in their own right. Therefore, the street corners, but not the streets have names. The journey, for the Japanese seems to be more important than the destination. This is reflected in the way they design their gardens. Hall said that a rock that might cause you to slow or stop in your path, causes you to look around and see the space from another perspective. He says attitude is reflected in the Japanese predilection to lead people to places where they can discover things for themselves.

The protective bubble we think of as our personal space varies from culture to culture, too. We begin learning in when we’re very young and inadvertently invade someone’s personal space, and they push us or tell us to move away.

One example Hall gave that had never occurred to me is the American custom of talking through a door or hanging around at the threshold. People do it at work all the time. I had not thought about it before, but coming into my office would signal that they plan on taking a good bit of time. Talking to me in the doorway sends the message that what they’re discussing won’t take enough time to make it necessary for them to sit or that it won’t be so involved that they need to be near my desk.

After reading the text, I noticed my reactions more when one of my colleagues came by my office. She initially stopped at the threshold and asked me a question. Then as she began to elaborate, she walked into my office, sat down and scooted her chair close to the edge of my desk and leaned forward. I knew that meant that instead of a couple of minutes, it would take about 20, and she would include her personal thoughts along with the facts.

From that perspective, it makes sense in the example that Hall gave about the man becoming angry when Hall was carrying on a conversation on the threshold of his room, while the man carried on another. The man viewed Hall as having entered his personal space without asking. When my colleague leaned in to talk to me, I didn’t feel that she was invading my space – she still was at the far phase of personal distance – but I felt she was stealing my time!

Perception of time, Hall says, also is highly cultural. I saw that first hand recently when a group of students were here from Spain. Their accompanying teacher said he had talked with them about how American view time. He explained to them how important it was to show up at the agreed-upon time and not 30 or 45 minutes later, which would be “on time” to them. One of the Spanish girls missed the school bus! It had never occurred to her that when she was told the bus left at 3:15, it meant the bus left at 3:15.

In looking at my house, you’d think I was a stickler for time, since you’ll hear three clocks chime the hour. Although I do subscribe to the American pack-all-you-can-into-an-hour philosophy (which I don't necessarily think is a good thing), the clocks actually are there because they are beautiful and I love to hear the different tones the chimes make.

Because my little house is very open, you can see all three clocks – two in the great room about 8 feet apart and one in my bedroom. When I added some space when my first child was born, I tore out the halls and walls of the second bedroom to create the great room, which has oak hardwood floors. The furniture is arranged to divide the room. The yellow striped Victorian couch has its back to the rest of the room, creating a cozy 6x9-foot (or so) sitting area with a cube-shaped chest on an area rug in front it, my little desk with just enough room for my laptop, a short corner cupboard with my printer on top, bookcases, and another desk with shelves. From the couch, you can see the birdfeeder through the sliding glass doors that open to a tree-filled backyard. A second couch facing the fireplace serves as the divider between the living area of the great room (which has a TV in the corner) and the dining "room." Behind the couch is the dining area, which has a long wall on which I’ve hung my European-looking art scenes in heavy gold frames and a portrait of my grandmother over the Bombay chest. The kitchen has two entrances (no doors), one off the dining area and one off the sitting area. My room opens directly off the great room. Next to it are three stairs that go down to my children’s rooms and their bathroom, all of which are just a step away from the stairs. Each of the rooms is small. Mine has an illusion of space because of mirrors that cover the sliding closet doors. Both my children's rooms have double windows facing the trees in the front. Their furniture - in the American way - is against the wall, so there's a feeling of open space. However, my daughter's bed pokes out from one corner of the room at a 45 degree angle. Since she can get in from either side, it makes her room feel bigger to have space around it.

My entire house is only 1,400 square feet, but like the Japanese, the interior has very little fixed space. This gives the feeling of spaciousness and allows me to rearrange for a totally different feeling and look, using the same furniture and art!