In my living room, on a wall above a rubber plant that's currently alive, is a blank space.

It measures about 30" wide by 40" long and is as white as white can be. To the left of the space are nine different clocks in three rows of three. They tick-tock around the clock and permeate the silence of the sunken room. Farther to the left of the tick-tocking clocks is a huge geometric abstract (50" by 60"), acrylic on canvas. It's a circular, brown, indigo, olive and mustard-colored concoction. The colors are less than appetizing, but the painting spoke to me, I had to have it and there it hangs. When the light hits the mustard patches just right, they glow. An ethereal thing.

Anyway, the tangent of the ticking clocks and abstract concoction always brings me back to the blank space. It's the true focal point of that wall. It's really the only blank space in my art-filled home. I've tried to fill it. Two tall palm plants under my care died there. At different times, the plants filled at least some of the space. I've also tried hanging other paintings in that space, but they just don't look right. The new rubber plant isn't tall enough to cover it so the blank space is blanker than ever.

Have you ever tried to fill disobedient blank spaces? They don't like uninvited company. It's like having a clumsy conversation with a stranger. You fumble and bumble in a struggle for words to fill the silence. Will this person think I'm a socially-inept idiot if I don't have something interesting to say to fill every second? In the media, they call long silences or blank spaces, "dead air." Dead air means lost revenue. Not good. Yet, isn't it funny how we associate silence and blank space with lack of purpose, loss and death?

Because we're always busy, rushing and doing, many of us cannot tolerate prolonged silence or blank spaces. To cram in something means we're giving them purpose and making them worthwhile. Even during meditation our minds are racing.

Shouldn't we pause every once in awhile? Take a breath, stop for a moment, stare into space, let your eyes rest on a blank wall. Luxury can be found in the spaces between our heartbeats or the pauses between the tick and the tock of a clock. The most profound time of all can be down time. The most profound space can be blank space. Nothing frames a great work of art better than blank space. Blank space for art, downtime for the people. It's all basically fresh air. Breathe.

I love my art. It soothes my heart and makes it pump. In perfect time, around the clock. Yet even in the midst of bliss, we could all use a little downtime or blank space. Ahhh, fresh air.

MICHAEL CORBIN IS A WRITER AND AVID ART COLLECTOR