When I was younger, my definition of art was very limited. I only appreciated artistic expression that I could relate to or that I was attracted to. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to value many forms of art, whether modern or traditional, abstract or concrete, functional or avant-garde, even if it doesn’t align with my personal aesthetic. I now realize that art is not so much about the product, but about the process and the passion. I see beauty in so much around me.
However, despite all this beauty that I have witnessed in this world, nothing is more stunning to me than the beauty of nature.
I recently had the opportunity to travel to Colorado, which I have never before visited in the summer. Everywhere I went, everything I saw, emanated beauty. I can’t help but agree with Thoreau that nature is the greatest (maybe second, only to love) source of inspiration and beauty. In some ways, it seems unbelievable to think that of all the artists who have existed and of all the masterpieces that have been created, it is the oldest piece of art in history that I view as the greatest.
And yet, this all makes sense when I think about the Artist who designed this complex yet simple, mystifying yet tangible, and savage yet fragile piece of art we call earth.