Rêver Dans Un Monde Magnifique: A Brief Treatise on Beauty

Introduction

“There is nothing wrong with the love of Beauty. But Beauty — unless she is wed to something more meaningful — is always superficial.” — Donna Tartt, ‘The Secret History’

‘Rêver Dans Un Monde Magnifique’, roughly translated to ‘asleep in a beautiful world’ or ‘dreaming in a beautiful world’ is, in my opinion, the perfect description of the human interaction with beauty. It is not possible for one to experience all beautiful things, nor even all forms of beauty. For those who have been exposed to a wide range of beauty, their enjoyment is limited as the moment you look away, you are experiencing a memory of beauty and have resigned yourself to faith in the human memory, one notably unreliable. It is also the case that we find ourselves constantly in conflict with ugliness, the aggression of authority, the malevolence of certain individuals and the terror of war is constantly thrust upon us by the media we choose to consume. Even a brief walk through an impoverished area can evoke feelings of deep anger, even hatred, of the suffering that too many people undergo. Such distractions, whilst important, happen alongside magnificent volcanic eruptions, sub-atomic reactions, sunsets and sunrises and the production of fine art; all of this can go unnoticed as we, as a species, are compelled to fight demons to which we ourselves gave existence. Climate change and ecological decline being the cost of our Faustian deal for a greater understanding of science and industry; poverty and crimes of desperation being symptomatic of the necessity of competition; what is described as ‘mental illness’ in modern Euro-western cultures being exacerbated by our own tendency to ostracise, medicate and patronize those whose minds work differently to the norm. Blinded and bound by a darkness of our own making, we are all asleep in a beautiful world.

The inclusion of the quote at the beginning is done out of an interest for the point made by Donna Tartt. Beauty is powerful, as evidenced by a human obsession with it (case in point: this essay) and the tendency to fall in love with beauty with stunning immediacy. In addition however, the human use of beauty can often be corrupted as excessive use of colour in painting may be described as kitsch, displays of golden grandiosity as a presentation of wealth and influence may be considered tasteless and the use of fashion to make oneself more sexually appealing can easily be seen as unnecessary promiscuity and, to the more puritanical, degenerate. Beauty’s power and potential is not to be abused, lest we devalue it entirely and reduce ourselves to a soulless existence.

Beauty, magnificence and sublimity are concepts less tied to aesthetic philosophy than they are fundamental features of the human existence; most notably for those of the nihilist and absurdist traditions who live without clear meaning as well as those who express and explore meaning through the medium of art. Perhaps less recognised is the significance of beauty in relation to the ordinary person, an entire world exists around the individual and the emotional response to that world can dictate, at least in part, how the individual treats others, themselves and the world. Living in accordance with beauty, experiencing the sublime and truly appreciating every minute detail of existence could arguably be considered a greater path to satisfaction than any philosophy, religion or psychotherapy.

It is also in the human condition to analyse excessively, in many cases to the point of destruction. This may be through literary criticism, philosophical exploration or the scientific method, however all can be employed (along with many other methods) to dissect things both tangible and intangible. It is fitting then, that many aestheticists have attempted to analyse, define and explain beauty only for them to find immediate disagreement, in what beauty is. So in this moment of unchecked arrogance I must do away with the petty philosophies of Kant, Nietzsche and Scruton, in favour of a wholly contradictory analysis of beauty derived from personal experience.

I will argue that beauty is grand, meaning the experience of beauty is inextricably tied to an experience of the sublime and is best expressed through grandeur. In the spirit of contradiction I will then lay out the reasons why beauty is small, or more accurately intricate, in how it is best experienced on an ever smaller scale. Then I will put forth the proposal that beauty is fundamentally human in that it is not only defined by our own experience but also a feature of our expression; put simply the argument that we are beautiful, we strive to become more beautiful and we are capable of creating beauty. Finally it will be claimed that beauty is, or rather should be, inhuman. Mankind’s contribution to the desecration of nature in tandem with the modern fixation on trying to control the forces of nature form the basis for the belief that beauty is not the business of humanity. Perhaps this treatise may not gain favour in academic or intellectual circles due to a clear lack of formality and an aggressive resistance to research and citations, however this structure is an extension of my belief in living through and for experience and it is clear that personal experience is not something to be researched or referenced in addition to existing descriptions.

I That Beauty Is Grand

One would be hard-pressed to argue that there is not an innate beauty in grandeur, the fundamental connection between beauty and the sublime has been explored by philosophers, poets and painters alike for centuries. It is estimated that around 5.9 million people make the pilgrimage to the Grand Canyon in Arizona every year, 1.17 million visit the Nepalese Himalayas. Though there is certainly the aspect of travelling to have been somewhere but not to be there, there is a reason why such places draw so many tourists despite providing little utility; for example, far more people would chose a trip to the Swiss Alps to experience the mountains than would choose a trip to a canning factory, despite the latter having seemingly more practical applications to our lives. The reason for visiting such places is to engage with natural beauty, the sublime and the picturesque.

Caspar David Friedrich’s 1818 oil painting, ‘Wanderer Above the Sea Fog’ is often used as an example of the ways in which the Romantic movement has dealt with the sublime. The painting captures a man stood on a rock, overlooking a misty seascape and the emotional response generated by this piece is similar to that which would be received by standing atop Mauna Kea in Hawaii and gazing off into the seemingly infinite distance. Friedrich masterfully crafts the experience of gazing into the untamed abyss and it is no surprise that in a world in which many land and sea views are tainted by manmade destruction, that the painting is often subject to pastiche with an environmentalist tone. One of the focuses of artists of various forms from the Romantic era is size, something that is sublime is typically massive, awesome and wholly natural and such a thing always holds beauty. In writing and thinking from personal experience I can say that I will always take the opportunity to look at a mountain, a desert or a gaping canyon and with millions of people travelling to do just that every year, I am not alone in my appreciation of such impressive natural beauty.

Beyond individual areas and natural landmarks is the stunning reality of the planet on which we live, regardless of debates about its shape, location and origin, it is agreed by a vast majority that the Earth is impressive. The perfect equilibrium of temperature, wind and air pressure balanced by weather fronts is a simple physical response to thermal radiation from the sun and yet when one considers its impact for long enough, it becomes clear that such an equilibrium is essential to our current way of life. That is beauty. The ‘watchmaker’ or ‘intelligent design’ argument is one often used by theists to justify their belief in the existence of a god and it relies entirely on our experience of the world, the perfection of nature is a convincing argument for the existence of a creator as to believe such stunning order could arrive out of entropy challenges the wisdom of the typical thinker. It is even beautiful that billions of people believe in something so grand as a divine power, a creator and absolute moral authority; though I find no ontological arguments to be satisfactory, I find such a strong level of faith in the existence of an invisible being to be a wonderful thing.

It also stands that if our own home is impressive, so is what surrounds it. Solar systems making up star systems, making up galaxies which move around at unfathomable speeds and yet we feel nothing. We can look into the sky and see essential infinity and if a mountain or valley can be considered sublime, there can be no question that the view from Earth on a clear night is existentially sublime. Stars are beautiful from a distance, the sun is bright and associated with happiness whilst the stars of other systems are understood to ‘twinkle’, we teach our children that stars are ‘pretty’ and though this is a greatly diminished form of beauty, it can be understood in entirely aesthetic terms.

Size however, comes with notable drawbacks. Existentialism may be a valuable and even beautiful philosophy but it can also be frightening and dangerous as it may force us to challenge a previously satisfactory worldview. In Wordsworth’s ‘Prelude’ we are given the Romantic understanding of the sublime as something to be feared; the “huge peak” the poet encounters after stealing a boat drives him into a state of panic and forces him to row back to shore in fear. Perhaps we are to understand this as a form of natural or divine beauty, the great mountain looming above Wordsworth as if commanding him to return the stolen boat. Or it is the poet telling us that nature is a petrifying force that is not to be trifled with. Either of these readings gives us a sense that the sublime is, to an extent, intrinsically ugly which leaves us with an experience of beauty to be kept small.

II That Beauty Is Small

Beauty enjoyed in magnificent settings is certainly valuable, however to the average enjoyer of existence, the most awesome of the world’s locations are not especially accessible and are best experienced only on occasion. The beauty that is most accessible and most consistent is that of our local areas, a walk in the park being widely advised for mood management. By keeping beauty on a small scale it is much more accessible, we can touch it whilst being surrounded by it. As we look at smaller and smaller things we see beauty that is often ignored with macrophotography focusing on the smallest of lifeforms and sub-atomic chemistry allowing us to understand the tiny events that shape our world as a whole.

There is perfection in nature that extends down to trees and blades of grass just as much as it applies to mountains and vast landscapes; this perfection is also easier for humans to manage, even to control. Whether rightly or wrongly humans turn beautiful into ‘pretty’ through the medium of fashion, grass, trees and flowers found in the wild may be selectively bred and planted in carefully planned areas in order to maximise the beauty of one’s house. Landscape gardening, mazes, extensive lawns and grand fountains have always been symbols of those with wealth and with taste as whilst it is difficult to have a mountain or gorge constructed in your back garden, beauty on a smaller scale is much more manageable. This tier of ‘small beauty’ or intricacy is most clearly apparent in flowers as different colours and species have come to take on their own meanings throughout history and we do not have to be told what flowers are ‘pretty’, we simply know. Naturally there is some taste-making in the field artistic botany with it being very clear that roses are of a higher worth than dandelions and daisies as the latter two are weeds, however it is remarkably easy to ignore the pretentious ramblings of any form of art critic and place personal preference at the fore of floral decision making.

Smaller still than flowers are insects which, though often deemed ugly, are regarded by some as beautiful. Ladybirds and June beetles are particularly popular for their shining, coloured shells, however some photographers have elected to focus on bluebottles and mosquitos as the closer one looks at them, the more amazed one becomes at the intricate and even ornate constructions of their faces, legs, wings and thoraxes. A particular favourite of mine would be bees as their black and yellow warning coat may symbolise threat but is undeniably an aesthetically pleasing sight in the summer months, furthermore their proclivity for communal effort, dancing to communicate and extraordinary hexagonal domiciles are cause for deep curiosity. Even in the little creatures that incite fear and disgust in the youngest of children, some find beauty when they look for it.

In a rather poetically cyclical manner we are brought to the atom. At first it may not appear cyclical at all as atoms are so far removed in size from the universe, however their orbital structure is so remarkably similar to that of a solar system or galaxy that I find myself once again brought back to the intelligent design debate. The sub-atomic actions that at first only appear to affect the atom, in turn are involved in a constant cycle of powerful chain reactions that explain everything from the rusting on a car to the detonation of a nuclear bomb or a supermassive black hole at the centre of the Milky Way. Those last two even bring us back to the discussion of beauty in size, as where Wordsworth was paralysed by fear of a mountain, he would surely have been astonished at the near pure light of an atomic bomb or the pure darkness of a black hole. Despite being existentially terrifying (with the nuclear bomb even being a stain of mankind’s pure, self-destructive evil) both black holes and atom bombs are arguably things of beauty, though perhaps in a way different to a patio rose.

As if by some intelligent design of my own, the concepts of planned gardens and nuclear weapons have arisen out of a discussion on natural beauty. Placing the emphasis now on human beauty.

III That Beauty Is Human

For those less misanthropic than myself, the idea of human beauty may be the first thought upon entering a discussion about beauty, particularly when in an argument over objectivity. It is often taken for granted that some men are objectively handsome, some women objectively pretty and that many are not. Human beauty however, is not as simple as measuring the width of one’s waist or the symmetry of one’s face and instead applies to the creations of humans as well as the human experience of beauty. To say that beauty is human is to say that not only can humans be beautiful, but that it is we that define beauty through our own experience. The question of a tree falling in the woods can apply here, if the humans are not around to experience or create beauty, then does beauty exist?

Firstly I must address the notion of the aesthetically pleasing person, though this shall remain brief. Human beauty in the sense of attractiveness is often dictated by chemical reactions and an evolutionary inclination to reproduce with an optimal partner and yet cultural beauty standards still vary from region to region and from era to era. For instance there is no correlation between dark skin and fertility and yet in the early 21st century West it is seen as attractive to be a white person with tanned skin, perhaps even a glowing coral shade from a synthetic tan; meanwhile in early 21st century India it is seen as attractive to have lighter skin, to the point where skin-whitening products are an essential feature of the Indian model’s toolkit. Such contradictions are seen throughout changing standards in history and in differing standards around the world and so it must be the case that beautiful people do actually exist. Or rather someone exists that will find another person beautiful, regardless of how they look. The distance between biological and evolutionary advantage and the actually illogical laws of attraction can be viewed as evidence that beauty is to be understood as an emotional response, it cannot be viewed scientifically and any philosophical search for Plato’s idea of beauty as a Form is futile.

An extension of that understanding of human beauty is the beauty which we create as humans. This can take many forms. One such form is fashion as we have, for most of our existence, sought to denote social status and physical attractiveness by accentuating our natural bodies with manmade cloth, jewellery and other accessories. Again vital to the understanding of beauty as hyper-subjective and routed in emotion is the changing of tastes in fashion, the men’s tights and high heels of the 16th century are sadly no longer popular in Europe, for example. Emotions (beauty as an experience being one) are easily shaped by other people and so those in positions of power in the fashion industry create taste, aided by the sycophants and critics who silence mere philistines who rightly see their entire industry as a corruption of human emotion. The styles of the punks of the 1970s and goths of the 1980s have even become more mainstream with their initial streak of rebellion and nonconformity proving popular amongst the disaffected youth, this provides an example of human emotion shaping the standards of the industry rather than the other way around.

There is also architecture, an expression of creativity employed for practical purposes though sometimes in an impractical manner. The curved arches and intricate mosaics of the Doge’s Palace in Venice are significantly less practical than the brutalist squares of former-Soviet Europe and yet many prefer the former. Further evidence for beauty and the importance of beauty as whether architecture employs extravagance or intricacy (perhaps both) it can be used to inspire further creativity and optimism. The architectural style that creates an overwhelmingly gloomy and depressing atmosphere whilst being simultaneously intricate, extravagant and beautiful is gothic. Employed as a style on many medieval churches and cathedrals due to its authoritative characteristics, there is also an element of folkish beauty as the style’s involvement in places of worship required it to be inspiring. It is a personal preference to be amongst gothic, Romanesque, neoclassical and renaissance architecture, however some do find beauty in the utilitarian comfort of brutalism or the accelerationist optimism of post-modern and contemporary architecture that looks into the future.

Humans also create music and other forms of art that are widely considered beautiful. I again reference Friedrich’s ‘Wanderer Above the Sea Fog’ as an example of a painting that captures beauty. Interestingly the focal point of that painting is actually a man, he stands centre-frame and gazes out; the painting represents the human experience of the sublime and not the mere existence of the sublime itself. As for music there are certain songs and genres that, whilst enjoyable to listen to, sing and dance to, I would not describe as beautiful. Though I lack any advanced musical education I find myself gripped with powerful but difficult to describe emotion when listening to Giuseppe Verdi’s ‘La Traviata’ or Felix Mendelssohn’s violin concerto. I believe this emotion to be beauty, an experience of beauty. Such an experience is both human in the sense that a human is the cause and in that a human is also the recipient.

Things do not even have to be intended as art to be beautiful, in fact some could be fundamentally wicked and corrupt, yet grant a beautiful insight into humanity. The atomic bomb is one of those things, its very existence founded on the principle of mass murder and total war, its destructive capabilities drilled into people from a young age and a whole world constantly at risk of mutually assured destruction that has, in the past, nearly been caused by computing errors. That is beautiful. Should I have to elaborate on that I would have proof of further subjectivity and should I not, I have confirmation of the near impossibility of describing and managing an understanding of beauty.

The aforementioned question regarding a tree collapsing in a forest is also relevant to human beauty. “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it make a sound?”, certainly a question open to extensive discussion, however for this exploration of beauty we need not look further than the stunning views of nature. If it is the stunning views that allow beauty to exist, is there beauty if we cannot view it? To a blind man the concept of a great mountain may be considered beautiful, however the mountain itself would not be as it could not be seen. We can question whether beings other than humans may experience beauty in the same way, however I do not purport to speak for the chimps, alligators or may flies who may very well enjoy their visits to the Grand Canyon. I can comfortably argue that humans have the greatest potential to appreciate beauty as through the development of agriculture in the Neolithic revolution we were able to satisfy our basic needs, allowing our increasingly advanced brains to seek satisfaction from simply watching a sunset or staring into the distance for hours on end, the rest of the animal kingdom must fend off external threats and continue to seek food and shelter, leaving little time to enjoy the landscape for its existence.

Despite there being a clear human experience associated with beauty, prior to the 18th century the established philosophical view placed a sense of objectivity on beauty. Plato saw it as a feature of a particular thing, in which case beauty predates humanity and will exist long after we have gone extinct. Thus the argument that beauty is inhuman can be made; this view is furthered by human interaction with natural beauty which tends towards destruction.

IV That Beauty Is Inhuman

That beauty is inhuman is an argument that can be made using two principles. The first is that beauty exists, existence is objective, therefore regardless of human perception or creation there will be beauty. The second is that whilst we are only aware of beauty through our experience, there is a human tendency to destroy natural beauty in pursuit of supposedly greater and greater feats of human achievement. The latter is the more convincing of the two as it is mankind’s Machiavellian pursuit of manufactured beauty and affirmative progress that results in the destruction of the most beautiful things.

In order for one to build a gothic church from stone, creating a manmade beauty such as Le Notre Dame de Paris, one must quarry the stone, destroying a natural area and possibly creating irreversible ecological damage to said location. One must also clear any shrubs, grass, flowers or trees that occupy Île de la Cité and force the local wildlife from their homes in order to have space to build the cathedral. Then it must be made accessible with more stone used to build bridges across the Seine which disrupt the underwater ecology. Apply these ideas across the entire city of Paris and you will see that mass urbanisation, though creating the beautiful Haussmann skyline of the French capital, has also come with population growth, migration and the resulting ethnic tensions, drunkenness and crime. What was once a beautiful countryside with hills and plateaus stretching for miles, either side of an untamed river, is now a sprawling metropolis containing all of humanity’s sins. Make no mistake, Paris is beautiful, however the destruction of inhuman, natural beauty in order to construct an architectural ode to Western civilisation stains the city with a black spot of human ugliness. This concept applied across the world with mass pollution and ecosystem decline as a result of humanity’s self-destructive quest for progress and a disregard for original beauty shows the disconnection between beauty and human action even better.

The example of forestry is also notable. Forestry involves the chopping down of trees and clearing of debris from forest floors in order to prevent forest fires and reduce the spread of diseases infecting tree populations. This is vital conservation work that rather counterintuitively requires the destruction of woodland habitats in order to prevent the further loss of woodland habitats. The absurdity of this becomes even clearer when it is acknowledged that it is humans and their pets that often spread diseases from one forest area to another, that it is human irresponsibility and occasionally malice that leads to forest fires and that it is centuries of human deforestation that has left us in the position of needing to fight to conserve remaining forests. Had humanity not destroyed 80% of the world’s forests any naturally occurring and spreading disease or fire would not constitute an environmental disaster risk, rather part of nature’s forestry cycle. We preserve forests partially because of their environmental function, however we construct paths through and around them so that we may enjoy the natural beauty they provide, it is the human destruction of beautiful places that has left us fighting to maintain the remaining trees.

Beauty is so central to the human existence, more particularly the enjoyment of human existence, as most people are aware of the positive impact that a walk in the forest or a stroll around an art gallery has on their wellbeing. Wellbeing is a necessity, especially for those aforementioned nihilists and absurdists who live without clear meaning and must therefore find things to enjoy, lest they should find themselves in a position of having no meaning and no enjoyment of meaninglessness which can be solved simply by suicide. Despite our powerful relationship with beauty, even going so far as to describe it as human emotion, the things we consider beautiful exist independently and often despite us.

Conclusion

A recurring theme in this essay has been a cyclical structure, so the best conclusion possible would be found in the introduction. The only addition would be the fundamental impossibility of beauty. We cannot truly define it without excluding beautiful things, we cannot accept that everything is beautiful nor can we claim that anything is not beautiful, we must simply resign ourselves to accepting it as an experience, an emotion we can call ‘human beauty’. At the same time we must consider the inhumanity of ‘original’ beauty and the dangerous ugliness of mankind. Be it the awe inspiring sublime, the intricate rose, the terrifying atom bomb or the gothic cathedral, we walk among the aesthetic and our lives would be worthless without it.

Beauty is grand, beauty is small, beauty is human, beauty is inhuman.

To finish where this began,

“Beauty is Terror.” — Donna Tartt, ‘The Secret History’