Is it graspable that a solitary, monochromatic, and asymmetrical shape commands a value running in the millions?
Once, I found myself gazing at multiple lines of what appeared to be unintelligible scribbling, perplexed as to how it had gotten past a first glance, let alone evoking mushiness from the enthusiasts.
I get it, it's cute, but why does it merit such a hefty price tag, costing not only my arms and legs but also those of my neighbours?
...5673 more ramblings...
Some modest clarity, eventually:
- No, it’s not some random vase. It’s the very flower vase by the artist. Technique? It's impasto; unassuming, yet masterful.
- It’s not aimless scribble; it’s purposeful—a rare classic.
- So yeah, it should be believable that so-so pieces are only to be displayed in some museum, as they're actually invaluable, based on qualities beyond aesthetics.
- And yeah, it's conceivable that malefactors have pursued a career in art thievery, and, of course, forgery.
…well, plus a bit of ongoing education in the underlying microeconomics of auctions.
Little addendum.
About a year ago, I attended an immersive art experience featuring Vincent van Gogh. After a near-baptismal experience, it occurred to me why some of his pieces were auctioned for a couple of million dollars. It sounded ludicrous at first, however, I came to understand that beyond the appreciation of his talent, his works are profoundly stirring and communicative. It taught me one thing: art bears (and bares) a soul. One breathed into it by its gifted creator. It did not come to me naturally, but with open-mindedness, I could see it too. The “face card” might neither be striking, nor the beauty stark, but in lingering a little longer, I think I can attempt to muster the emotional resonance that comes with the appreciation of art, even art that's not my "spec" (if I have any).
Pretty much applicable to humans, I believe.
There'd probably be no need to label anyone as beautiful, or unremarkable if we all had the same appeal. But thanks to the innumerable self-love activists and the propagation of the agenda that everyone is bodily beautiful, people these days seem to emphasise their satisfaction with exactly how they look. Unfortunately, no matter how much I'd like to jump on the wagon, not everyone is visibly endearing at first or even bold enough to corroborate the claim for that matter. It's a natural bias or flaw, as the case may be.
Obvious beauty, no matter how charming, is unlikely to keep anyone connected for the long haul. Even beauty pageants and supermodels have to prove themselves beyond their good looks. Some people may look rough on the outside, and may never come to have physical allure, but that doesn't mean they aren't bright gems.
Whenever I catch me gunning for beauty or 'posh’ in people, I recall that I never envisioned myself as physically appealing, or at least, I didn't consider myself a catch until I turned fifteen. By a stroke of luck, the handsome boy I liked—whom I believed wouldn’t notice someone as smallish as me—liked me back. However, even my blemished perception of myself struggled in the sheer shallowness of that superficial charm. I grew too scared to stick around until 'we' cultivated any depth, so I quickly ran away. I don’t claim to have as much substance as I’m yearning for, but I’ve made a few good choices in my life, my husband being one of them.
This realisation has redefined my appreciation of beauty: substance over mere aesthetics. As far as meaning goes, I could go deeper. While I value aesthetics, I hope my appreciation delves much deeper into the more valuable realms of meaning. This reflection brings to mind the analogy of books; the covers may be visually pleasing, yet they often wear and tear long before the pages that hold the substance of the stories. They're hardly more important than the pages they house.
Continuously, I strive to train my eyes to discern the intrinsic sweetness in people—a quality they have more control over than their looks. Simultaneously, I extend the hope that others make a conscious effort to do the same when looking at me.
I'm grateful for the subjectivity of beauty; nonetheless I'd like to reach further, hoping to connect with the good in others that may not be immediately obvious.
Oh, and knowing when to stop looking.