I always enjoy reading The Best American Essays series because it's a curated collection of some of the most compelling essays of the year. Say what you will about David Brooks, but his collection of essays (of which I've only read the first six or so) for the 2012 edition has been a doozy. I've been reading one or two at lunch this week and I come back to my desk feeling all ephiphanied.
While some of the other essays have led to more personal, and more personally profound, epiphanies over the last few days, the one I read today entitled A Beauty helped me find the words to express an idea I've had for some time. I hesitate to bring it up, because no doubt it's an elementary idea to many, especially those who study art. Still, my idea is simply that there's a difference
between the art that I would put on my walls at home and the art that I
would enjoy in a museum. I appreciate a lot of art that I would not invite into my home--and the difference is beauty. In my home I want the
aesthetically pleasing. In a way, I don't want to have to think about it. I want it to catch my eye, make me smile, and let me move on. Apparently in the art world this is considered
superficial, and I'm not actually sure that I disagree. I think I'm
okay with the walls of my home being only superficially lovely.
Similarly, my blog is about creating and seeking beautiful moments, and that is (often) also superficial, and also fine with me. My walls and my blog do not encompass the whole of me. I fall firmly in the realm of seeking beauty for its own sake, but not seeking it only.