My earliest recollections of beauty were from when I was very young, perhaps only a few years old. I had a physical reaction to certain images or to colors. I became entranced and immobile, immersed in my sense impressions of the outer world invading the inner.
If its presence doesn’t disturb, disrupt, confound the soul, even while setting it at rest, it isn’t beauty.
If it doesn’t have something to do with love, it isn’t beauty.
And just like in life, one cannot chase after such beauty. I can’t go out hunting for these images. Beauty is like a fluttering butterfly, if you chase it, it will perennially elude you, but if you stay calm and immerse in your environment, the butterfly will come closer and allow you to experience its magnificence.
I’m a sky watcher. I’m looking for aliens, but what I get from the experience is a rabid awe and excitement of something new, visitors from another realm. While the images I present are not meant to be aliens, I hope to capture the beauty and acceptance of the unknown.
I take photos to honor the beautiful moment that no one else notices. A psychoanalyst friend thinks that beauty is proof of God’s love. His God is kinder than mine; for me, beauty is recompense for being human in the face of God’s love, which surpasses my little understanding. Beauty shows the connection between inside and outside, the possibility of human wholeness in the indifferent world, the grace of getting a cosmic joke.
Jesus drinking coffee inside her heart, camellias reach, embracing the barreled ceiling with mystery. The cups line up with the sandwich plates; and she, a stranger, looks on as Picasso’s dove
flies blithely through the kitchen window, sent and invited.
Look out on a beautiful spring or summer day and you’ll see the delicate splendor of the flowers. Morning and evening sunrises and sunsets open up a whole new world with their intensity. What could be more perfect than an autumn day with exquisite red, orange, and yellow leaves bursting with color. The sea, the sky, and the landscapes with their formations and colors bring a sense of awe and admiration to us.
Beauty is an aura, a sensation that speaks directly to the soul. One does not experience a beautiful object, but the feeling of beauty. Experiencing beauty is being exalted by the perfection of the moment, and that perfection is created by the reaction of our senses and soul toward the artwork.
The very moment we realise the true nature of a thing, the thing becomes beautiful. When we don´t have to explain the reasons, why something or someone is aesthetically appealing to look at, we just perceive that they are.
More exactingly, in visual representations, notions of beauty emerge as much as from schooled and traditional foci as they do from private experience. Some artists replicate the lines, shapes, shading, and tones of classic or of Renaissance fare. Others fashion the optical equivalent of punk, reggae, or house music.
I became entranced and immobile, immersed in my sense impressions of the outer world invading the inner. It was much later that I began to love words and the way they could combine to form poems or stories. But for me, the image, and the other physical impressions of an object, the scent of a flower, the feel of a dog’s fur,
When I was little, my dad had our walls decorated with calligraphy scrolls featuring ancient Chinese poetry. He and my mom grew different-colored chrysanthemum in dozens of pots in our courtyard. On some crisp summer mornings, he would gather me and my sisters in front of our water lily pond he built and take photos of us. Beauty then was the elegance and serenity that were surrounding me and my family.