Seed: Ain't She A Beaut?
A few weeks ago we were dining at Moe's and I noticed another family sitting nearby teeming with activity just like ours. I was eating my Vandalay and participating in the conversations, but I was compelled to observe the other table; somewhere between a glance and a gawk, but not so much as to be caught looking. The group consisted of, by all appearances, a textbook nuclear family - white, middle class, two parents, one boy, one girl - but for some reason it was very pleasing to observe them. I have reasonably developed social skills, so I was getting the signal from the ol' noggin to stop staring and I paused to take inventory of my emotions. It wasn't lust; it wasn't curiosity; it definitely wasn't rubbernecking. Finally, I realized what it was. They were all gorgeous.
I realized I was feeling something not too different from what I feel in an art museum, called the aesthetic experience by in-the-know art people. In fact, it was such a warm, calming feeling that I wanted to feel that emotion more often and share it with others. I instantly thought of a great idea -- we need an ornamental class. I'm not talking about a community college craft workshop. I mean our society needs to develop a caste of people who are like ambulatory works of art.
I started to formulate that idea in my mind. But first, not being one to lead the unexamined life, I delved into a study on the nature of this art-viewing emotion. I had the required Fine Arts 101 course in college and we briefly scraped the surface of Aesthetics in Philosophy 101, but on either side of those courses, my spin on Art was, "I know what I like."
What I really wanted to know was if there is, and if so, what is a term which describes the feeling you get when you look at a painting you really like. We have plenty of words in English like exhilirating or rapt which would obviously work fine, but I was really hoping for some very long Italian or French word that really hits the spot. So, I cracked open the Gardner's and a few art dictionaries and read the sections on art appreciation.
I quickly realized that, like most concepts, art is very nearly impossible to define and even harder to put succinctly. I did find one declarative statement among the many oblique ones. It said, "Art is the opposite of nature." That statement is so blunt that my initial reaction was an adamant refutation of it. We constantly use artistic terms to describe nature (wildflowers were 'Monet's paint box'; the sky is God's canvas) and likewise when we transform nature it is called art (landscaping, flower arranging, fiber arts, etc). But it slowly sunk in... it's not a two-way street: nature makes art possible by providing materials and inspiration, but art can't create or inspire nature.
This was problematic, because part of my justification for the Ornamental Caste was their objectification into art. But since humans are natural, they can't also be art. I think, but don't know, that even Kant (art for art's sake) and the Aesthetes would agree with that. I fully realize at this point that I have no idea what I'm talking about, although the Art History majors I have talked to were at a loss on this as well. Reading more, I finally found what was missing (though still no good term). I read that what causes the felicity is beauty not the art itself; again this may all be elemental to you, dear reader, but this was not covered in school, I promise. One book described beauty as determined by our recognizing patterns which we then associate with a harmony or balance in nature. This makes perfect sense to me and really rescued my cause.
So here's what we do. We, as a society, find these beautiful people and we pay them to just walk around and be places. By the way, if you're going to say, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" just click away from this page right now. We all find different things endearing or sexually attractive about people, but there are people out there that a majority of us will say are awe-inspiringly beautiful. All we have to do is set up a committee of artists, designers, and like people and have them come up with a set of criteria for determining human beauty. Then we create a computer simulation which can scan someone and determine what percentage of a match they are to perfection. People who fall within a certain range become an Ornamental. We can do this, people. If we can put men on the moon; if Tony Danza can still find work; if a 44 oz SuperGulp can be purchased for less than a 32 oz BigGulp; then we can do this.
Just seeing an Ornamental would bring reassurance that harmony with nature was in our grasp and make us feel warm inside. Think of the myriad possibilities. Job satisfaction and workplace morale would soar if you could just lean back in your chair and catch a glimpse of an Ornamental. Kids in rough inner city schools would not be prone to act up in class if an Ornamental were simply sitting at a desk in the classroom reading a magazine. People would go to church more often if an Ornamental were sitting at the right hand of the minister; when combined with the feelings of peace and harmony generated by the Ornamental's presence, the spirituality of the religious experience would rock the house. Courtrooms, prisons, riot control, art museums - the Ornamentals would be incredibly wonderful to have around. And the commercial benefit of having these people eating in your restaurant or shopping in your store would be incalcuable. I'd say it would be the cheapest tax money ever spent.
There are other advantages, too. No longer would the beautiful, yet vacuous fill critical positions in the clerical and educational fields. We all know that a gorgeous person will be hired over a less attractive, more qualified person nearly every time. With Ornamentals on the scene, we could have more efficient secretaries and assistants and more effective teachers at our disposal -- made even more productive by the soothing effects of the Ornamental.
I'm surprised we haven't tried this before. I'm aware of the Hetarae in ancient Greece, the Geisha in Japan, and various cultures' harems, concubines, eunuchs, and courtesans. But these castes had to perform specific, uh, tasks. All an Ornamental has to do is show up. For even greater cost-benefit, Ornamentals could educate themselves and be come roving ambassadors of culture as well. Think of the party implications.
I promise you, this will transform society. We will all be better off. Sure, it will be rough at first. You'll have Harding-Kerrigan episodes, Texas Cheerleader Mom episodes, stuff like that. The high-brows will kick up a storm, no doubt (probably out of jealousy) and run into walls while navel-gazing about the meaning of it all. The Evangelicals will say we're all created in God's image. I don't even want to imagine what feminists will say. But give it a generation or two and we'll all be walking around with blissful smiles on our faces.
What do you say? Can I count on you? Will you join me in this great in this great crusade to bring a little joy into our lives?
posted by St. Fiacre @ 5:38 PM,
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Response: Ornamentally Challenged
So apparently a “Vandalay” is a specialty burrito offered by Moe’s Southwest Grill™. I had envisioned some kind of strawberry parfait with orange custard sauce and a caramel coated cherry on top. But no, it’s a burrito. I could have used this tidbit of information about two weeks ago when I began formulating my response to St. Fiacre’s Master’s Thesis on why Lisa Loeb should be cloned and placed in the lobby of every Moe’s Southwest Grill™ from here to Manhattan, Kansas.
An ornamental class? It’s certainly an intriguing concept and not without its merit, but how could I in good conscience, lend credence to the idea that our society actually needs people performing in an ornamental capacity? Christmas time is fast approaching, so what better time of year to discuss what exactly an ornament is and what purpose it ultimately serves.
An ornament, quite simply, is anything added to enhance the appearance of something else. That American flag earring St. Fiacre wears to work, the Dukes of Hazzard watch he keeps time with, the “Kang is my co-pilot” bumper sticker on his ’86 Buick Regal; they’re all ornaments. And thank God we have them right? Sure. But people, I would argue, are a whole different animal (pun fully realized). We weren’t intended to be ornamental. Ornate yes, but ornamental no.
Sure it would be nice not to have to look at the acne-covered, pregnant 17 year old cashier at 7-11™ every time I have to pump gas, but an ornamental really wouldn’t brighten my day all that much. The whole thing reeks of phoniness, to coin a Caulfieldian phrase. If someone asked me to describe beauty, it would be like trying to speak Arabic, which I’m told sounds something like this, س ع ٣ ٻ ٱ פ ٻ . It can’t be done. We can’t even agree on who killed the electric car, much less a definition of beauty. And beauty is overrated anyways. As the great Fonzi Marsciarelli once said, “Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together. Heyyy!” Or was that Petrarch?
Ask yourself this question: Do you really want to walk into a Wal-Mart at 3:33 am to pick up a razor and some potato chips and encounter the resident Wal-Mart ornamental? I mean, just look at yourself. You’re wearing Miami Dolphin sweatpants, an orange mesh half-shirt, pink jelly sandals, and a camouflage jacket. Not to mention the fact that your hair has obviously been slept on, a Mt. Etna sized pimple is emerging at the corner of your lips, and your breath smells bad to put it mildly. And look at the ornamental. A perfectly sculpted Adonis, fully equipped with bulging biceps, an impeccably coiffed Cesar cut and smartly dressed in a new Armani pinstripe. Wow, you really feel good about yourself now don’t you? So good that you have the uncontrollable urge to go over and strangle the ornamental in front of a crowd of similarly dressed bargain shoppers. Is this what the future holds for us? I hope not.
If my reasons sound selfish, they are. I don’t want some ornamental upstaging me every single day of my life. What if by chance, I have a really good day, and just so happen to outshine the ornamental in general appearance? I know it’s far-fetched, but I don’t want my one day of sans-mediocrity spoiled by some paid government beauty agent. And I’m assuming that were would be some unifying traits shared by all ornamentals. Even if you like the traits shared by the majority of artwork from the late Baroque and Rococo period, eventually you will tire of it, if that’s all you ever see. Even something beautiful can become ugly if it’s continually overexposed. Just look at Paris Hilton. Alright, bad example. Madonna? No, that’s no good either. David Hasselhoff? I give up.
And by the way St. Fiacre, I believe the word you were looking for is “sublime.” As in, St. Fiacre’s favorite band is Sublime.
Disclaimer: No Arabic symbols were harmed during the making of this blog.
posted by A Contemporary Bunkshooter @ 5:30 PM,
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Response to Ornamentally Challenged: Will Success Spoil Contemporary Bunkshooter?
Ummm....no, sublime isn't the word I'm looking for, Bunky. But you do get 10 points for being right for the wrong reason. My scouring of the philosophy and art books suggest that sublime refers to an experience with the vastness, violence and terror of nature and that beauty is on the opposite end of the spectrum of sublimity. So in the sense that humans are natural beings, ok, I concede that sublimity is applicable. But, in my worldview formed by Burke and Kant, sublime doesn't apply.
But here's why you're wrong about sublime - it's because I absolutely loathe that word. Chiefly because of the requisite article in front of it. The Sublime. It makes it sound like it's a noun. It's cumbersome to use other forms of it. "Look at that volcano's ash covering that little Mayan village! I am feeling the sublime!" You can't use subliminal because that infers an absence of sensation and sublimate is to change physical states. The dictionary lists alternate forms as: sublimes, sublimed, and subliming. Quick! Use one of those in a sentence. "That ferocious tiger sublimed me," sounds like a line from Ghostbusters. I want a sesquipedalian word like chiarascuro or epiphany or serendipity or weltschmerz, and the king - schadenfreuede.
Nonetheless I doff my cap top you, Bunky. It never occured to me that I might get tired of seeing beautiful people everywhere. After I thought about what you said, I realized that people would get so tired of beauty that they would begin to dangerously seek out the supremely ugly and then, hell yeah, you couldn't throw a ball without hitting something sublime.
Here's my final thought on your response. I was surprised at the choleric nature of your post. And since, as you say, Christmas is fast approaching, I'm thinking if you penned a Christmas song, it might have a cathartic effect on you. I'm talking about an original. It was good for Elvis, why not you? Even your gods Lennon and Dylan dabbled in Xmas tunes.
Why, Bunky? Why will you not write a Christmas song? Are you afraid of success? Are you afraid you will accidentally write the next Rudolph or Jingle Bells and you will become so fabulously wealthy that your children will not learn the value of hard work?
Labels: beautiful people, Christmas, Dylan, Elvis, Lennon, songs, sublime
posted by St. Fiacre @ 5:29 PM,
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Response: It's a conspiracy!
Thank you, Bunky, for being the first to blog after the Saint’s seed post. I’ve spent days trying to formulate some kind of coherent response, attempting to answer the question, “What is Art?” or at least, “What is Beauty?” or, broken down to its most basic level, “What constitutes an Ornamental?”
Having attempted for years to be included (at least on the fringes) in any kind of ornamental group, I finally gave up and accepted that fact that I’ll always be considered “cute” rather than “hot.” The crease in my nose is there to stay. I stopped growing in the sixth grade, so I’ll never know the joy of being leggy. As for cleavage, I finally experienced that particular aspect of the feminine mystique while breastfeeding both my babies. I’m satisfied with my Audrey Hepburn figure. I’m okay with who I am.
Yet, as I read in popular magazines, many others are not.
That’s why I feel that the possibility of ornamental upstaging, as Bunky termed it, would set a terrible precedent for the young and vulnerable. The pressure to become the outward symbol of societal beauty would be devastating. Training our children to fill this impossibly tiny niche would probably begin from the moment of birth, if not sooner. (Can somebody say genetic engineering?) As it is, I can barely keep from screaming when, shopping at Target, I’m confronted by 4-year-old girls wearing barely-there minis, fishnet hose, and inappropriately-sloganed t-shirts, marketing themselves as “Naughty Miss” or “Jail Bait”. Haven’t their parents heard the term “pedophile”?
But I digress.
It was in a Schlotzsky’s that I had the disquieting realization of how completely we’ve all been bamboozled (by fashion mags, Hollywood, and cheesy romance novels) to believe that there are beautiful people out there on every corner, serving in every capacity: teacher, vampire, toll booth operator, prostitute. But the truth is they just don’t exist. Eating my sandwich, I peered around the sandwich shop and came up with a theory I called Schlotzsky’s People: there are no beautiful people. There are only ordinary people brainwashed into believing there are beautiful people.
In that Schlotzsky’s, shuffling up to order a hot original, were the toothless, the hunched, the chubby, the craggy-faced, the beanpole, the bald, the crease-nosed, the chinless, the cross-eyed, the homely, the short. There wasn’t a single beautiful person in the mix. Statistically, my theory went, if the entire room of people served as a cross-section of America, then there were no beautiful people. It's all a marketing ploy dreamed up by the powerful to get us to buy magazines, go to the movies, or purchase bodice-rippers by the case.
Saint, the very fact that you propose creating a class of paid ornamentals suggests that they’ve gotten to even the highest echelon of critical thinkers. Perhaps it might be best to stay away from grills or sandwich shops until the full effects of the earth-shattering truth sinks in.
Disclaimer: No ordinary people were brainwashed during the making of this blog.
Labels: beautiful people, conspiracies, sandwich shops, theories
posted by Adjective Queen @ 5:25 PM,
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