Beauty Blind

There's a certain reviewer online that I follow. His mix of sarcasm and insight have seen me through many ennui ruts.

One comment he once made, though, had always confused me. He was discussing how, in China, a contest had been set up. In this contest, people could have their faces scanned, and facial recognition would determine how beautiful they were, with prizes of some sort distributed on this basis. His concluding comment on the subject was something on the topic of "whether or not a robot wanted to fuck them."

For a long time this confused me. Although people seemed to want to have sex with attractive people, it seemed strange to ascribe such motive to an inanimate processor.

It was only recently that I realized that he said this because, for him, (human) beauty and sexual attraction were one in the same. This understanding made me sad: sad that he was so limited in his aesthetic, sad that he would apparently never appreciate the natural lines and forms of the human body.

The female form, especially that typically considered beautiful, is full of elegant, sweeping lines. Such lines are the core of many sculptures, especially the abstract, as well as key substance in many paintings. This is especially true of the most minimalist designs where smooth, gentle curves and textures dominate, like in the human body.

Or what of the male body? There is beauty in developed muscle, the complex interactions of layers of skin and sinew with each movement, especially with the density found in a tone man. This same beauty can be found in a galloping horse or pouncing lion.

In everything there is beauty, regardless of our intentions towards it. But apparently some cannot see the innate beauty of that closest to them. And that's sad.