Ever the artist, the collector, the seeker of beauty, my husband went off yesterday to pick up a ‘beauty bike’. Should I insert, ‘big roll of the eyes here’ or say it was definitely one of those clear moments when I knew I just had to let the artist ride out his dream. It is an aesthetically pleasing piece of design, though I have not yet seen it in the flesh. It is a new project, to be sculpted, to be uniquely designed.
My mind has been preoccupied with preparing for is first speech, children full of November cold’s and not feeling the inspiration for writing but when our eldest son saw this piece, he said “it’s a beauty”. I thought this summed it up quite nicely. But what does make us judge something as ‘Beautiful’ or not? What does make my husband think that a bike is a beauty, to me the design of it does not make me desire it or feel the need to possess it.
In a world where we have become obsessed with the external we have forgotten that inner beauty is what lasts longer. The flowers wither and die, the leaves fall of the trees. Everything which is beautiful dies. As a society we have lost the idea that worth is defined by the soul, the heart, moral character.