What Makes Something Beautiful?
I talk a lot on this blog about making things beautiful. From a composition perspective, it seems vague, so I wanted to explain what I mean by that.
While beauty is subjective, I think there’s an element to that word that people can all agree on.
The reason I don’t call streets beautiful is because there’s no love put into them. The measurements are all wrong, the paint jobs are careless, the lines aren’t straight, the area where the road meets the grass looks horrible, and the colors aren’t consistent. They’re unremarkable.
I don’t call houses beautiful because they’re lifeless. Not in the literal sense, but in the way they’re crafted (why are these lights off center by 1/2 inch? Who thought that door went with that house? Why is the shape so boring?).
Beautiful doesn’t mean good-looking. It doesn’t mean flutes, a solo violin passage, soft, or whimsical.
Beauty is in the mind. It’s about how something makes you different than you were before you saw, heard, or felt it. And it has no shape - it can be heavy, dark, lovely, fast, slow, scary, bright, soft, or anything in between.
It’s about creating a product to the point that it brings both the artform and the viewer alive. It’s the difference between ‘like’ and ‘love’.
In music, beauty isn’t in how it sounds, beauty is how it feels.