The existential and directional implications of art in its relationship to beauty map well onto the moral and existential state that we find ourselves perpetually in. The extra things around me like earrings, architectural-trim, kitsch, pottery, and toys, have only risen further to the surface of my perception and greatly influence these intentionally colorful, bold in shape, rich in pattern, undoubtable artifacts that are a bouquet of attempts at doing ‘good’ via art.
Several years ago, while working as a rural mailman, I came upon a flowering plant that grabbed my attention to such a degree that I paused my route and pulled over to see it in more detail. I had never been into horticulture, and still am not, but what struck me was how unnatural it seemed. Among the dust of the road and the stalks of dry grass, it had a quality that rose above the day-to-day survival of an organism and into another realm altogether. It was beautiful.
Arguably, the formal details of a flower have been selected by innumerable generations of pollinators through time. And this is mostly true. Yet, flowers are still pretty . Regardless of how flowers came to take their various forms, that they would become beautiful in any way is strange. There is clearly something extra about a flower—its shape, its color, its ornamentation more generally. These details indulge us unnecessarily.
This lack of necessity is familiar. It is the same quality that has been distilled from art conceptually, its uselessness. Art, like the flower’s sensuous detail, is extra. This negation of utility is important in granting an artwork the ability to wear our existential shoes, but the quality that interests me the most is the direction implied by beauty. It may be the element missing from much of contemporary art, a North Star guiding our making; an ought.
Sincerely,