On design and worship

Design, beauty being extra as all hell

You know when you upend a toaster to get the old crumbs out and you suddenly dislodge a personal philosophy? Well, that’s what happened today.

I’ve been thinking about beauty/style for a while now. I try to surround myself with things that bring me joy[1]. Pretty lamps, matching mask and watchband pairs, sparkly and cheap-ish rings. A dragon themed stationery set, matte medium-nib fountain pens and gorgeous ink that I will in no way disclose the price of, etc.[2]

Last night, I clicked away from the ‘orrible murdur for a brief half an hour and watched one episode[3] of Abstract: The Art of Design and was shook. Olafur Eliasson has the kind of installations that are in no way wanky and in all ways beautiful and like having your spirit briefly smacked out of your body with derailing of chain-thoughts. When he spoke about the light in different geographic places, I placed my hand on my heart, a thing that I don’t remember ever doing[4].

I’ve seen the light in some of those places and the best day of my life so far included a trip to one of the black beaches in Iceland where they filmed.

The waterfall he used in some of the installations is one of the main reasons why I believe that Iceland is the most beautiful place in the world.

Navel gazing chat with Professor Badass and Psych Badass

I told you about the giblet-nipple thing last week, the guy (henceforth named Professor Badass) who wrote about it is an old friend and we’ve been talking. He and my fellow guildie, and friend henceforth named Psych Badass, are in the same field and we are 100% not going to talk about the fact that I have had major realizations about my thinking process and personal philosophy with people who have interviewed serial killers (he) and who are card carrying blood spatter experts (she). Nopenopenope.

PB and I were talking about our fascination with cult leaders and the more charming of the serial rapists and/or murderers and why they are so interesting. The cult survivors don’t talk about why they fell in love in the first place. That isn’t a complaint, not really, it’s more of a comment. People who do survive death cults have this mixture of guilt, horror and defensiveness that hardly sets it up for a solid how to on charming people into unspeakable acts. So, I asked, and he replied “The ability to charm. The ability to zone in on the part that you hide away”.

This was not a fun answer to receive. I do that when I want to know someone better. To force a connection. I know I have been a massive dick to a bunch of people but to see it is the kind of self-correcting that stings.

Anyway, we moved onto atheism and worship. I whined about the wellness wheel and how I am hard done by on account of atheism.

I linked this quote by PTerry: “Dwarfs were not a naturally religious species, but in a world where pit props could crack without warning and pockets of fire damp could suddenly explode they'd seen the need for gods as the sort of supernatural equivalent of a hard hat. Besides, when you hit your thumb with an eight-pound hammer it's nice to be able to blaspheme. It takes a very special and strong-minded kind of atheist to jump up and down with their hand clasped under their other armpit and shout, "Oh, random-fluctuations-in-the-space-time-continuum!" or "Aaargh, primitive-and-outmoded-concept on a crutch!”

― Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms

And this one by DFW: “Because here's something else that's weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship—be it JC or Allah, be it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles—is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.”

― David Foster Wallace, This Is Water

That’s when the theory fell out of the toaster.

Both quotes are fundamental to me, so much so that they are both referenced in tattoos I have and paired with the design sermon last night I realized that the closest I come to a spirituality is being moved by beauty. I also finally understand why people get a special kind of intense about fashion.

So other than the troubling bit about never having enough, now the question is where my line is on how wankery[5] art is. Because, well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and who am I to doubt other beliefs?

I’m just going to let this one marinate.

1. State of the pool: a placid and slightly sloshing plastic pool with an incongruously huge[6] shadow in it.

2. Something in SA that I miss: My family. So intensely that I am a little shocked. I mean, my brothers, obviously, but my parents so much that I cannot yet speak to them because I will start sobbing and that will never do. I would rather jam a fork into the meaty part of my hand than have them see that and not because I am a nice person.

3. TV show I am watching: Lie to me. Tim Roth is the sexiest man in the world. The. Whole. World.

4. Saffer song of the day: Parkiebank - Fokofpolisiekar

5. Other song of the day: Oh wonder - Lonely Star

[1] I had this first Marie Kondo *shakes fist* [2] This is all in my office, btw. Every office I have had in USA so far and whenever I am asked, I reply that life is short/we’re all dying and that I’d rather surround myself with beautiful things than not. Luckily Americans are all for self-expression, so they let me be and any whispers of “hella extra” are valid and I derive a not inconsiderable amount of satisfaction from it. [3] Let’s not get crazy. It’s like going to church, not exactly a bingeable event for someone who only attends funerals and weddings. [4] I’ve been bingeing Lie to me which is the only reason I noticed. Micro expressions and unconscious movements. [5] and whether a line isn’t maybe a super wankery thing on its own… [6] See L-Space