I’m mesmerized by kinetic art—the sculpture that spins, the mobile that sways—and because of that I’m compelled to hang windows in our yard. Every window is a world, and when a window is suspended, when a window floats or sways in the breeze, another facet of that world is yours to behold.
My first kinetic window I sourced from the double-hung I saved from our bathroom remodel. It had the old-style panes of glass separated by sturdy mullions that were tedious to paint. I had no idea why I saved the window or what I would do with it. But then, inspiration.
I hung the windows one over the other from a tree and the wind did its thing. For a good while the windows leaned and danced and twirled but eventually struck the trunk of the tree too many times during storms and were incrementally bashed, shards of glass littering the ground, wood splintered, joints failing.
I missed those windows. I used to look at them every day. And now I have another. When I saw this window in a pile headed for the trash, I recognized it immediately. I liked its shape and proportions. I knew what it would become. This one I hung out front, higher up and farther from the trunk of the tree. And now another world has opened.
