What is beautiful? Little has driven humanity as far as the search for beauty in the universe. The eternal search for what we know and perceive as perfection, and the fleeting, yearning feeling for some divine other that will finally fulfill culture’s ravenous hunger. Like a child greedily eating a box of chocolates, it is insatiable. Whole philosophies, religions, and arts have devoted millennia to this eternal mystery. Is beauty in the sacred spires of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona? Is it in the hallowed halls of the Uffizi Gallery? Grand and spectacular, is beauty hiding in the bastion of humanity’s most refined creations?
Perhaps the search begins in an older, ancient ground. If you were to strip humanity of culture, what would we have left? Empty plots of grounds where monuments used to stand, empty gallery halls, and most of all, silence. Peeling back the bustling epidermis of modern day society, the primordial rhythm of nature beats faintly for those who listen closely enough. When considering the upper echelons of beauty, there is no larger master than nature, delicately conducting the orchestra of the universe.
