The Word "Beauty"

I've always hesitated to call anything beautiful. I’ve heard people throw the word around when they see a car or bike or picture. But it seems trite to hear the word used like that. I don't think I've ever experienced seeing something beautiful. I’ve never seen something so incredible you can’t help but stare at it for a long time and be transfixed.

While I can appreciate a pretty landscape, I’ve never been awed by one. I’ve never been transfixed by a painting or a woodworking piece, though I can admire either. When I was in school I used to think I was coming up short by not appreciating a work of art fully. But now I think I may just have a different sense of beauty.

I suspect my understanding of beauty may always have been flawed. I don't think beauty is something so amazing that it reaches out and punches you in the face and leaves you reeling for a whole minute.

But there have been some things that I’ve looked at and picked up and said, “That’s good.” Like this guitar pick:

Its color doesn’t shout at you, but it is distinctive. It has a chalky feel to it, to give grip. It feels secure like it won’t slip out of your hand while playing. It has a good thickness. Enough to tell you you’re playing hard, but it’s not flimsy. Its corners are rounded to a comfortable radius. Every quality about it is appropriate for its use. It feels simple and dependable. To me, this is as close as I can get to understanding an object as “beautiful.” Its shape, color, texture, thickness, weight, everything - conforms to the aspects of its function.

“Beauty is simplicity.”

“Beauty is conformity.”