AtaxicInferno

I cannot see the truth in beauty.  Beauty it seems, though it rings so true upon my sight of it, is simply that: the harmonic resonance of my subjectivity with my sense perception.  I am not content with calling this truth. Why do so many insist on equating these two things, Truth and Beauty, when each is so immense and mighty on its own?  Beauty is that which I see and hear.  It falls as snow upon the warm floor of my understanding and there melts.  Beauty I absorb into me. But Truth, that is another thing altogether.  Always out there lurking, never to be had.  I would allow Truth into me, but it would never enter.  That beast is too wild

Perhaps I was wrong in my last attempt to explain my recent work.  Or perhaps I explained only a fraction of it.  The objects I find appeal to me, but it is only because of their potential to become something else.  I see the form, but there is potential for transformation.  The objects themselves are trash, pieces of things cast away by society.  But beauty does not lie in utility.  Rather, beauty is its own utility.  To seek the meaning behind the things is a lost cause, for the meaning is the result of a particular sense impression based on specific visual phenomena.  The appearance is the meaning, for it is all we have of the thing. "Une

We know that there is much beauty to be found in nature, and it is often asserted that beauty and truth are one in the same, but these words are all abstract.  Our mind grasps these concepts only because it simplifies them.  Forgot what you know of truth, allow yourself to fail to understand, and it is easy to imagine a beauty that transcends nature, a beauty that goes beyond truth. Here we find the unequivocal: something that does not equate to what we know, something that stands outside our sphere of comprehension.  It is here that something even more real than the so-called truth we glimpse in our understanding exists.  Unequivocal Beauty