Without our star, how would we inhabit bodies of rich sensory perception with which to perceive, even partially, the faint and intermittent signals lumped together under the term “beauty”? From the darkness of our ordinary, often dreary and difficult lives, these signals—if we pause long enough from “information—can become art. These glimpses into the organic whole may even glimmer.
Life took me to Phoenix, where I still, after forty years here, recognize sunlight as the first ingredient of beauty. The spare beauty of the desert continues to bind me to the area, and it also highlights the fragility of so much we regard as being beautiful.