We all, in some way, suffer in relation to beauty: in spite of, alongside, because of, or for its sake. If I had to call beauty one thing, I would call it an aesthetic; a lenient appreciation that is malleable in each creator’s hands, because what’s graceful to some is pure jive to others.
In an era when many time-honored literary conventions have become extinct, it is reassuring to learn that at least one literary genius is trying to re-feather the Muse by creating a new and vital verse form.
Beauty seems to be essential for humans. It springs up everywhere, even in the most desolate circumstances, like a weed that grows out of a crack in cement and briefly flowers.
Whatever the subject, be it clearly a thing of beauty, like the tracery of branches at dusk, or an old lamp someone discards on the sidewalk, I try in my work to shape and share my own experience of its miraculous existence in a world full of chaos and difficulty.
Emilie’s Audi crosses the mountain border between Western Washington and Eastern Washington. Lush greenery turns into dry desert as the sun rises above the horizon. After driving a few hours on one long two-lane highway, she turns off onto the exit Siri tells her to take.
Dear Mr Sinclair Randal, I would like to thank you for your enquiry about the embryo. He hatched two days ago and is already six centimetres long. Because there is no longer egg shell around him, there is no longer egg shell between him and me in my uterus, so he is able to learn better from the outside world.
(Beauty) is the photo showing the statue of Nike “Winged Victory of Samothrace” leaving the Louvre at night, two days after World War II was declared. (…) She is without a head or arms, but she is winged. She is wrapped in sack cloth and ropes and stands in a crate. She is eight foot tall. Her wings are unprotected.
To me Thomas’ proportio suggests beauty is made of parts. Bits and pieces, found objects, scraps, remains you lift from the floor, collect, dust off, repair. Then you mix them, delicately sew, glue, polish, repurpose.
“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” he chuckles, his eyes bright with amusement. “The next time you come home to visit and stay out all night with your friends, please do remember to bring a key.”
There is no greater gift than full attention. That is the deeper beauty. And if it happens in a cafe in Bristol, England, or Oaxaca, Mexico, or Brisbane, California, so much the better.
When given the choice between inner beauty and mere surface beauty, on a great many occasions I’ve opted to wade, frolic and generally amuse myself in the decidedly shallow end of the pool.
The smell of old paper, the curling geometry of clockwork, the delicacy of hands … the colors in storm clouds, tarnished metal. The wonder of finding and savouring beauty is only exceeded by the wonder of creating it.