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The second tenet of Distilled Harmony is "Enable Beauty." I occasionally need to point out - to myself as well as others - that it is not "Enable Art."
I am on a wide variety of “art” lists, so, throughout the day, dozens of images of “artworks" vie for attention upon my screen.
The images reflect an incredibly “yin yang” perception of the world. And if you want to fall into a really deep rabbit hole, google “yin yang.” I did. When I came up for air, the definition that seemed to stick with me was one that asserts that the concept grew out of observations of nature in which '"Yin" originally referred to the shady side of a slope while "yang" referred to the sunny side.” Both were necessary for a balanced existence. The Star Wars catalogue sharpens the divide somewhat, splitting "The Force" which drives existence into the Jedi’s Light or Good side, and the Dark Side of the Sith which reflects Evil. But that is another rabbit hole for another time. The point is that “art” can focus our attention on either the light or the dark side of existence with equal facility.
If one aspect of my psyche has remained relatively constant as I approach the beginning of my 70th year [for those of you who know me well and are scratching your heads, technically, you begin your 70th year when you turn 69] it is that I do not “do" dark. This is a characteristic - perhaps genetic, if my older daughter can be used as evidence - born of a belief that “real life" provides more than enough evidence for the Dark Side. Hence I have no need to explore its artistic representations. That attitude reflects a kind of hypersensitivity to those narratives that depend upon the existence of violence, hatred and evil to make the protagonist necessary - but then strangely allow the protagonist to behave in precisely the same manner as the villain, the sole difference being that the protagonist is on “our side.” So violence and mayhem are acceptable if exercised in the name of “good.” Unless, that is, you just don’t do dark.
In the spirit of full-disclosure, I need to confess that I have come to enjoy some “dark side” narratives, both in terms of mystery novels, detective TV shows, etc. But only those in which the “fiction” is completely obvious. When the darkness begins to seem “real,” asserting that evil really does lurk around every corner - or when children or dogs are put in harms way - I tune out, usually literally.
OK, to circle back to Enable Beauty. When you encounter artistic representations of the dark side you can simply put down the book, walk out of the movie, or turn off whatever “digital device” you employ to stream your entertainment. But the artifacts - the pictures, paintings, sculpture, etc., with which you choose to surround yourself - on your walls, table tops, bookcases, etc., - these create the world in which you live. I simply cannot understand why one would choose to “do dark” in that self-constructed world. Therefore, I find it remarkable that any of the dark images that parade across my screen in the name of art find a home anywhere. Perhaps the very wealthy would purchase those dark works in the spirit of social or political solidarity and put them in a closet somewhere. But display them so they would greet you everyday? More than a little creepy.
It is undeniable that the “beast” side of art as a medium for social protest has a long and storied history. One of my "art sites" - Artsy.net - recently ran an editorial discussing why Picasso's Guernica retained its powerful anti-war message 80 years after its creation. Critics continue to explore the bizarre imagery of Hieronymus Bosch 600 years after the artist's death. I am not about to fling myself into either of those discussions. My question is far less complex: Would you want to hang Guernica or Bosch's The Garden of Earthly Delights in your home? Assuming, of course, that you had the significant amount of wall space they both require?
The question is not one of the works' place in art history. The question is the place of the images' place in your head. These are dark works. To shoehorn them into a definition of "beauty" would require significant intellectual contortions.
The second tenet - Enable Beauty - is closely tied to very measurable reactions when viewing the artifacts: your pulse eases, blood pressure drops, you smile. You become calm. Your interaction with the work is pleasurable. Allowing yourself time and space for these observations, surrounding yourself with such works, is to enable beauty.
There is, of course, the other side of the equation: the role of the artist as creator as opposed to consumer. When we doodle or draw or paint or sculpt or write, we do so with some intent. Again yin and yang provide alternate pathways. Yin may well “rage rage against the dying of the light!” But remember that Dylan Thomas also wrote in Under Milkwood: "It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobbled streets silent and the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.”
It is easy to imagine Thomas raging his way through a bottle of single malt as he crafted Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night. But the same artist would, it seems, experience a significant drop in blood pressure when penning Under Milkwood or A Child’s Christmas in Wales.
The point is simply this: The second tenet of Distilled Harmony points to beauty, whether we are the creator or the consumer. Like everything in Distilled Harmony the objective is harmony, not discord. Distilled Harmony does not advocate a gullible, "Pollyanna-esque" view of the world. Rather it acknowledges the sad fact that in our culture, politics, art and literature, the Dark Side often overwhelms the Light and needs no succor from us. We choose the nature of our personal environment and the themes of our creations. So, to maximize harmony in my life, as I said, "I’ll have beauty - hold the beast."
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