Sometimes, there are these special days when the world seems to resonate with its incredible beauty. As if someone up there turned a faucet, and beauty poured out, bubbled, boiled over, and spilled past the clouds down to us on earth. And it spread so much that it became unbearably hard to handle. You start to feel like you’re drowning, unable to withstand this astonishing flow. I see the world through a lens.
I am an aesthete, and I started noticing the beauty of our world from a very young age. Sometimes my mother would draw my attention to the velvety pollen of a newly blossomed lily, other times I would eagerly examine the delicate veins in the pearly wings of a moth.
It wasn’t difficult for me to find beauty. I only needed to open my eyes, and I would immediately notice something special – an unusual play of light; an old, yet unneeded porcelain set; or the simplest path leading to an ethereal garden. I always saw what many could not, even with three pairs of glasses on.
I always sensed beauty around me acutely, and it always seemed that I was too small for it. Not in the sense that I felt too young to appreciate it, but in the sense that it didn’t fit inside me, it sought an outlet, looked for a reflection, but couldn’t find one.
Then, a camera fell into my hands. To be honest, I didn’t particularly strive to become a photographer, and photography, as an art form, didn’t interest me much at that time.
At first, I took very few pictures, bringing back just a couple of dozen shots from trips, until I realized that a photograph is the perfect mirror that can reflect overwhelming beauty.
And after these thoughts, my soul soared to paradise. I began to greedily capture every moment. I looked for interesting people; woke up at the crack of dawn for the sunrise; didn’t mind going out in a summer rain or the dampest November chill. I captured magical glows and golden mists. I managed to preserve the tender moments that made my heart stop, and I found great pleasure even in a simple walk in the woods. I was happy.
Until one day, I realized that I see the world only through a lens. At one point, I understood that the enchanting beauty that used to make my heart beat faster no longer moved me, didn’t drown me, or overflow me. The beauty that had inspired me for so long became just another photo.
Now I’m learning again to see it and feel it, to allow it to be torturous and all-consuming once more.
Now I dream of becoming “big,” “boundless,” and “immense,” so that beauty can’t spill out and always has enough space. Until that moment comes, I will search again and again for ways to preserve and convey what is impossible to preserve and convey.
Read my similar posts: The curse of knowledge and Sadness and Creativity.
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