Sometimes there is beauty in the messy jumble, in the pipework, the cabling, the draft, the tangle, the engine and the computer. More in the programing than the program, the rehearsal than the dance. All under the hood, below the cover, behind the curtain, hidden away like private parts. The ugliest utilitarian boxes cover them up, concealing their beautiful guts in grotesque packaging.
Sometimes I wish we would drive cars with the hood off, with the body panels removed. Show off those springs and bolts and widgets. Instead we hide the beauty in formalism. Maybe it is time we kicked the door off it’s hinges, broke the glass and let it all breath. Maybe there is more even in the argument than the resolution, in the unsettled and the uncertain.
As beauty is the better part of virtue and truth, I’d think we are in need of it more than anything. A life without beauty is violence. And maybe we are surrounded by more violence than we realize.