Beautiful lines
Today I noticed how soothing lines are. Not curvy, in-your-face lines, but quiet, level straight lines. My dad and I cleaned the kitchen today, freeing the table and the counters from their usual clutter. This also freed the lines. I was staring at them, over the rim of my tea cup, when they suddenly hit me--or quietly approached me.
We have rectangular windows composed of smaller rectangles--six per pane--that look out on to out back yard. Our rectangular table sat in front of that. Around that sat six straight-back chairs with parallel lines running down their backs. Everything rested on a rectangular oriental rug with a pattern of diminishing boarders.
The counter had straight lines. The walls stood straight. The ceiling hung level. Here or there, a curve would insert itself with the precarious beauty of a Japanese print--that one out-of-place tree weeping over the river. Sometimes a straight line was missing--fascinating stuff.
Normally we miss all this. I know I do. We generally reserve the word beautiful for something that grabs our attention, like a mountain jutting from the mist. It stands firm, and wild, and powerful, casting a shadow we can't miss.
Lines have a simple harmony that doesn't to that. Instead, it takes our focus to drag the beautiful from the mundane.
We have rectangular windows composed of smaller rectangles--six per pane--that look out on to out back yard. Our rectangular table sat in front of that. Around that sat six straight-back chairs with parallel lines running down their backs. Everything rested on a rectangular oriental rug with a pattern of diminishing boarders.
The counter had straight lines. The walls stood straight. The ceiling hung level. Here or there, a curve would insert itself with the precarious beauty of a Japanese print--that one out-of-place tree weeping over the river. Sometimes a straight line was missing--fascinating stuff.
Normally we miss all this. I know I do. We generally reserve the word beautiful for something that grabs our attention, like a mountain jutting from the mist. It stands firm, and wild, and powerful, casting a shadow we can't miss.
Lines have a simple harmony that doesn't to that. Instead, it takes our focus to drag the beautiful from the mundane.