AboutEverythingElse

Richard Avedon :: portrait of Marella Agnelli :: 1959

Throughout Western history, the concept of beauty has always been associated with the idea of perfection. In ancient Greece, the definition of beautiful was structurally linked to notions of order, symmetry and clarity, and to the presence of proportions defined as harmonic. In the Middle Ages, Christianity gave beauty a symbolic dimension by interpreting it as divine attributes, such as goodness and truth – in this sense, also linked to the idea of perfection. And although Renaissance brought relativistic concepts, which incorporated cultural and socio-economic aspects to the concept of beauty, it was not until the seventeenth century that subjectivity began to permeate the notion of beauty (thus giving rise to the concept of “taste”).

In the second half of the eighteenth century, the social upheavals in Europe created a favorable environment for the revival of Ancient Greece and Rome’s ideals of beauty, widely used in the representative images of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Empire. And it was precisely at that moment that Kant emerged, the first thinker to move the center of existence of beauty from the object to the subject. The division that Kant established between ‘judgment of knowledge’ (which creates concepts based on the object’s properties) and ‘aesthetic judgment’ (arising from the personal reaction of the beholder before the object) defined the foundations of contemporary aesthetics. The beauty is no longer only in what is seen, and also lies in the eyes that see.

The Kantian thought paved the way for the great aesthetic ruptures that took place between the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century. The ideas of uniqueness, individuality, pleasure, emotion, power, courage, vitality, and others, were incorporated into the concept of beautiful. We were able to understand that there is beauty in perfection, but also that perfection is not a prerequisite of beauty. We sharpened our capacity of perception and expanded the possibility of giving pleasure to our souls. We began to admire the crystal clear voice of Nat King Cole as much as Chet Baker’s insecure voice; the classic proportions of Grace Kelly’s face, and the exotic and voluptuous features of Sophia Loren; the dense beauty of Raushenberg’s work and the almost superficial pop art of Warhol.

A few decades later, the path of apparent freedom curiously ended up leading us to an imprisonment. Stimulated by an industry that is interdisciplinarily structured in mass production and overestimation of youth to generate profits, the search for a beauty ideal – for the perfect beauty – has never been as exacerbated as today. In an insane and endless process, men and women throw themselves on a journey towards that which is nothing but a collective imaginary construction. And by abandoning their own beauty to (try to) attain the other, they live eternally unhappy, wandering along this path.

We need to rescue the wealth of plurality and the beauty that lies in imperfection. We need to remember the weirdness of Dovima. The eyes of Serge Gainsbourg, the teeth of Lauren Hutton. The mouth of Mick Jagger, the eyebrows of Frida Kahlo and the lines of Grace Jones. And, above all, remember the words of Leonard Cohen, who, in his song ‘Anthem’ from 1992, said:
“…Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

Zaha Hadid :: JS Bach Chamber Music Hall, Manchester, UK :: photo© Luke Hayes

Philosophers, historians and theorists have been long trying to establish a connection between music and architecture. Two thousand five hundred years ago, Pythagoras had already conceptualized the mathematical harmony as a cornerstone to explain the entire creation, the existence and operation of the universe. According to the Greek philosopher, the ‘pleasant relation of proportions’ would make all things vibrate in a great universal harmony, just like the notes in a song.

Some of these relationships of proportions established by Pythagoras came to define canonical spatial relations of classical architecture, as well as the predominant musical ‘patterns’ until the Modern Age. In architecture and western music, the beauty of a work was guided by the Pythagorean concept of harmony among its elements for centuries.

This understanding began to be questioned in music, with the emergence of the tonal system, which enabled the exploration of other relations of proportion and intervals, once considered inharmonious and therefore incorrect. Music went from tonality to atonality, until its dissolution and dodecaphony, with creators such as Schoenberg and John Cage. In parallel, social and political changes resulting from the rise of the bourgeoisie in Europe sparked the desire to set the formal rules of classicism free and the search for individual expression and innovation, allowing the emergence of a new architecture – which, by breaking the commitment to symmetry and the relations of proportions previously defined as pleasant (correct), culminated, centuries later, in experiences such as those of Frank Gehry or Daniel Liebeskind. Today, the notion of beauty – whether in music or architecture – is marked by new and diverse concepts.

Each in its own way, music and architecture are aesthetic compositions resulting from the association of different elements, organized and governed by certain principles. Height, length, proportion, alternation, repetition, arrangement, rhythm, intensity, density, texture, contrast, harmony, balance, tension… these are all elements of both musical and architectural creations. The quality of the work as well as its beauty stem from the knowledge, competence and sensitivity of its author in connecting these elements.

If, throughout history, architecture and music reveal parallel paths (and not just with regard to the evolution of knowledge, but also in their relationship with society), they currently seem to be following divergent paths: whereas the quality in a work of architecture is being increasingly perceived and required socially, one does not seem to care that our musical production is increasingly devoid of attributes. Today, we pursue and exalt the quality and beauty of homes, buildings, theaters and arenas, but to discuss the quality and the beauty of the music performed in these spaces is off the agenda.

At some point, our society has ceased to understand music as an aesthetic composition, and simply relegated it to the territory of entertainment. It’s a shame. By dispensing with the quality and beauty in our music production, we are increasingly missing the opportunity to expand our pleasures and the meaning of our existence.

Elsa Peretti :: photo by Duane Michals :: Vogue, 1974

Elsa Peretti is perhaps the greatest responsible for the contemporary image of Tiffany & Co. Since her first collection for the brand in 1974, the Italian designer has been creating beautiful objects and jewelry that are characterized by an organic simplicity and an unmistakable formal elegance – attributes that have kept her work among the best sellers of the company over the past 40 years.

Born in Florence in 1940, Elsa revealed her creative, curious and free spirit in a very early age. Daughter of a magnate of the oil industry, while still young she distanced herself from her conservative parents to spend time in Switzerland, and teach Italian and ski. Back in Italy, she graduated in interior design in Rome and, after breaking her engagement, moved to Milan and began working with the architect Dado Torrigiani. In the following year, 1963, she moved to Barcelona and began her career as a model, and plunged into the fascinating world of Catalan artists and architects – in particular Gaudi, a declared influence to her. Fascinated by the sculptural forms, she traveled to Japan and Hong Kong to immerse in Asian art and symbolism; finally, in 1968, she emigrated to the United States and went to live in New York (according to her, the best place to enjoy one’s youth at that time).

When walking the runways for Halston, Sant’ Angelo and De La Renta, Elsa noticed her special interest in the design of jewelry and accessories. With her somewhat rebellious personality, refined esthete perception and proximity to the fashion world, she quickly realized that the language that was emerging in clothing design (characterized by the combination of comfort, practicality and sensuality) should also permeate dressing accessories. Then she began her wax modeling work with abstract, simple and organic shapes inspired by the forms of nature; later, by dipping them in silver, she created beautiful pieces, attractive because of their clean and innovative design and their superb execution. Only 5 years separated her first necklace creation to her contract with Tiffany – and by the time the renowned jewelry brand launched her first collection, all her pieces of work were already sold out.

Elsa Peretti usually says that her work comes from her life. And there is no doubt that every one of her creations reflects her personality and the way she sees the world: her passion for nature, whose shapes she copies and then reinvents; her tireless curiosity, that moves her in search of various materials and production processes; her devotion to craftsmanship, that makes each creation the result of hard and investigative manual work; and her eternal rebellion that keeps the flame of questioning alive in her.

Even today, there is no model more perfect for Elsa Peretti’s creations than herself. Style (which, according to the designer herself, does not go with excesses), beauty, simplicity, competence, elegance and personality – to see, wear, admire and learn.

To learn more: http://elsaperettidesign.blogspot.com.br

La Parisienne :: Inès de la Fressange et Sophie Gachet :: Ed. Flammarion :: 2010

Since its launch in 2010, much has been said about the book by Inès de la Fressange and Sophie Gachet. In fact, this is a great book: the text is full of humor, grace and vivacity; the illustrations (made by Inès herself) convey the same attributes, with some delicacy and even a bit of irony on herself; the photos (by Sophie and Inès) reveal a particular and unpretentious look on objects and places; and the information… well, who would not like to have a list of addresses to the less obvious and best products and services in Paris?

At a closer look, however, the book proves to be much more than a ‘style guide’ – a title not included in the original publication (simply “La Parisienne”), but added to the title in its English version (“Parisian chic: a style guide by Inès de la Fressange”), and also adopted in the Portuguese version (“A Parisiense: o guia de estilo de Inès de la Fressange”).

The term ‘guide’ implies in a work with rules and instructions that, if followed, are able to ensure the success of a certain project or attitude. But the notion that there is a formula, a recipe for being ‘chic’ (!) or to have ‘style’ is diametrically opposed to the thought that develops throughout the book – and it becomes clear right at its very beginning: “You need to learn to take liberties with the categorical statements… Some rules were made to be broken… Do you like orange dress with yellow shoes? Go ahead, people will follow you eventually!”

I believe that the great merit of the book is, in fact, to stimulate reflection and understanding on ourselves, and to value individual expression – whether in dressing, living or consuming. To read something like: “(The Parisian) is not one to spend all her salary in a must-have. First because she has no money, and second because she believes she is as talented as a stylist: why overpay for an outfit that she could have imagined herself?” is far more instructive than getting to know Inès’ particular view on how to match shoes and dresses.

Or this: “Why think that it is absolutely necessary to pay millions to have art at home? Have your children’s favorite drawings framed… Acrylic magnetic frames will transform any piece of paper you value, even a message scribbled on a napkin… “Is it really important to know where the acrylic magnetic paintings are from? No, what is relevant is the notion that each individual decides what they want to frame – that which is most valuable.

To have style is to know yourself and be clear about your preferences; it is to know what gives you pleasure, what coexists in harmony with your way of moving, thinking, acting, and living. And make each choice, consequently, an expression of individuality. To have style is to be aware of one’s uniqueness – and enjoy this condition with joy and pleasure.

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Kitagawa Utamaro :: Lovers in an upstairs room :: 1788

“February 27th
Just as I imagined. My wife keeps a diary. To this day I took the precaution of not writing it in this notebook, but actually my attention was vaguely grabbed a few days ago.
… I am not so vile as to read the diary of my own wife without her permission. However, driven by bad feelings, I tried to cunningly remove the tape that sealed it so as to leave no marks. I wanted to show my wife that a tape alone would be useless.

…

March 7th…
Then I found the key lying in the same place. I thought there must be some reason, and then I opened the drawer and pulled out my husband’s diary. To my surprise, it was sealed with a tape in the same way as I had done. Would my husband want to tell me “Try opening it”?
… I was tempted to try to pull the tape without leaving marks. And so I did it, simply out of curiosity”

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Bobby McFerrin

“Is this what you want to do? Is this how you picture exploring music?” These were the questions Bobby McFerrin says he asked himself when still very young and thrilled by listening to Keith Jarrett’s piano performance. The vulnerability of a person alone on a stage had always fascinated him, and made him wonder if he could, as Jarrett, capture the essence of a song, its harmonies, and capture his own essence – and only then, sing the same way Jarret played the piano: with his heart and in his own unique and personal way.

He spent almost three years alone, singing, writing, listening and getting acquainted with his own voice. During the first two years Bobby did not listen to other singers – he was afraid of being influenced by some other singing style, convinced that this would make him turn away from his own style. He needed to discover himself, learn and take ownership for the sound he created, get to know and explore the possibilities of his own voice.

His ability to improvise was also a challenge to overcome. He wanted to discover the pleasure of moving without knowing exactly where to go… of letting himself go as a child does, without being guided by theoretical knowledge. He then spent many other years working out his own way to improvise – in his words, overcoming the fear of improvisation, the fear of taking risks, of looking like a fool and not having enough ideas.

Today, over 30 years later, Bobby McFerrin is known worldwide as one of the greatest talents of contemporary music. In addition to the musical genius in every note his voice sings and every gesture he makes, rare plainness and elegance become evident from the perfect harmony of what he does, what he looks like and who he really is.

Bobby McFerrin’s truth can also serve as an allegory for each of us. After all, there is nothing more beautiful, elegant and enjoyable than being and acknowledging oneself as unique, listening to one’s own voice, expressing one’s essence, not fearing the unknown and experiencing the joy of keep moving. And that’s what really matters.

To learn more: http://bobbymcferrin.com/
To listen to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktotbE4rN2g (interview)

Victor Brauner :: ‘The Triumph Of Doubt’ :: 1946

We live in an era of certainty – or pseudocertainty. Ways of being, dressing or behaving, answers to questions or attitudes in response to situations appear to be unique, obvious and unarguable. In times of ‘personal services’ (trainer, shopper, organizer, stylist…!!!), self-help books and “how-to” handbooks (not to mention contemporary bibles such as Google and Wikipedia), not being able to keep up with the “must-bes” or “must-haves”, or not having the instant (and expected) answer to any questioning appears to be a sign of ignorance or weakness.

In 2008, in an interview to Franthiesco Ballerini, correspondent to the Brazilian newspaper Estadao in Los Angeles – in a context of criticism on television for its power to destroy reflection capacity – the award-winning actor Alan Arkin made an interesting observation: “Today, when you ask a question to a young person, they always have an answer. People no longer reflect before answering. Nobody says ‘let me think about it’. Even Einstein used to say this all the time, and he was reasonably smart.”

Doubt is one of the major human development drivers, and the capacity to reflect is one of our greatest assets. Certainty and unanimity are not only stupid, they are also stagnant – one can only grow, both socially and individually, through constant questioning. Those who do not say to themselves “I don’t know, I need to think about it” do not know the pleasure of listening to themselves – to their soul, reason and feelings – and of building their own identity.

Enjoying freedom of thought, exercising emotional and intellectual skills, taking ownership for one’s own way of being, dressing or behaving, as well as being whole and worthy in responses and attitudes towards life (well aware of the responsibilities involved in them) is one of the greatest pleasures human beings can indulge themselves in – and it’s the most elegant way of living life, unique as it is.

Issey Miyake by Irving Penn :: 1990

The American Irving Penn was one of the key people in building the image of Western women in the second half of the twentieth century. He joined Vogue in the late 1940s through Alexander Liberman (his job was to “come up with ideas for the covers”), and eventually established himself as a talented creator of fashion images, full of glamour and sensuality to which the post-war American society aspired.

While on the one hand his near aristocratic view privileged poses of rigid formalism – which made reference to photos of previous decades – on the other hand the minimalism and the plainness perceived in his images showed, undoubtedly, the innovative nature of his work. Even when fashion itself was built on excesses, the sensitive eye of Penn filtered out the superfluous, and the resulting images were always of great elegance and sophisticated simplicity.

Born in Hiroshima seven years before the city was destroyed by war, Issey Miyake is undoubtedly one of the most creative clothing designers of the last century. Far beyond the “Japanese designer” label usually assigned by the international press, Miyake was never restricted to national identity, and always sought balance between tradition and innovation to create universal designs. “I do not create to express my ego or personality, but rather to get answers to those who are wondering about our era and how we should live it.”

From a simple and minimalist concept – “making clothes from a piece of cloth” – Miyake’s work is a result from the old principle of mixing a three-dimensional figure with two-dimensional material by means of folding. By combining Japanese fabric with western patterns, new technology and functionality, his “less is more” concept builds forms which are architecturally simple, elegant and of exquisite beauty.
For over 20 years, between 1975 and 1998, Irving Penn portrayed Issey Miyake’s work. The merger of these two artists from such diverse cultural backgrounds was registered in 1999 in the wonderful book “Irving Penn regards the works of Issey Miyake”, by Midori Kitamura and Mark Holborn, which will be the subject of an exhibition at 21-21 Design Sight in Tokyo, Japan, starting in September.

This union, which at first seemed unusual, has produced hundreds of stunning images, in that their work turned out to be a mirror to each other’s work. Under Penn’s influence, the models’ poses turned Miyake’s clothes into true sculptures, portraying scenes that look more like fragments of dance moves; Miyake, in turn, gave Penn a chance to exercise his formal rigor with textures, shapes and masks from another culture. And the union of these two “masters of reduction,” as defined by Holborn in the foreword of the book, yielded images of a dry, sharp and accurate nature, which offer no room for anything beyond the essentials. The result of this beautiful partnership, which Miyake poetically called “silent understanding”, proves that the concepts of beauty and elegance can indeed be universal – and can gently touch the most unique souls throughout eternity.

Henri Matisse :: ‘La Desserte’ (Dinner Table) :: 1896-97

Human beings might not even remember that dressing once had only a functional meaning in their lives – to protect the body from wheather conditions. After this first moment and over the centuries, dressing incorporated other meanings – social, religious, or even ideological and political – to become, as it is today, an act of codes, rituals and cares.

The history of eating has followed a similar path – if the purpose of food once was just to ensure survival for human beings, it has gained developments over time and, permeated by economic, social, religious or geographic issues, food has also acquired its codes, rituals and cares.

When we look at the evolution of manners and customs, we can also observe another aspect, more subtle but not less relevant: the need for humans to give greater pleasure to mandatory acts which are essential to their existence. As man became conscious of his own existence and gained perception of his tastes and pleasures, he was no longer able to stand endless, mechanical and routine repetition of tasks that did not provide comfort also to his soul. Expanding the meaning of such affairs has become imperative.

We can confer beauty and therefore pleasure to any acts and accomplishments of the human being, and to the various ways of relating to them and among ourselves. In the introduction of his book “A beleza salvará o mundo” (Beauty will save the world) – (Ed. Difel, 2011), the philosopher Tzvetan Todorov explains that beauty, be that of a landscape, a date or a work of art, does not refer to anything beyond these things, but makes us appreciate them as such – and therefore, allows us to try the sensation of living full and exclusively the present moment.

Being at the table to enjoy a meal is one of the richest and most frequent opportunities we have to experience such a feeling – and it amazes me to see how many men and women waste it daily by relating to food as did our ancestors.

At the table, the shape of arranged objects, the taste of a certain food, the encounter with the others, or with yourself, are all possibilities for us to enjoy this fullness – in the words of Todorov, “instant yet infinitely desirable feeling which gives meaning to our existence; thanks to these precious moments, it becomes more beautiful and richer in senses”.

Let us, therefore, be attentive and generous with ourselves, remembering every day that every meal is a chance to meet with the beautiful, to give ourselves pleasure and thus to expand the meaning of our existence.

Clarice Niskier :: The immoral soul

“There’s a look that knows how to tell right from wrong and wrong from right. There is a look that sees when obedience means disrespect and when disobedience means respect. There is a look that recognizes the short long paths and the long short paths. There’s a look that sees through, that does not hesitate to point out that there are wicked fidelities and betrayals of great loyalty. This is the soul’s look.”

‘Our immoral soul’ is one of the most beautiful and striking theater plays I have seen in recent years – a theatrical adaptation elaborated and interpreted (elegantly and sensitively) by Clarice Niskier, from the homonymous book by Rabbi Nilton Bonder. Based on the concept that the human soul is transgressive in its very essence, the text confuses, deconstructs and reconstructs ancient views on the concepts of body and soul, right and wrong, obedience and disobedience, betrayer and betrayed.

Bonder establishes the awareness of human beings on their own existence as the origin of the moral body, which then becomes the guardian of customs, conformity and adaptation – the keeper of past traditions, who works through them for the reproduction of the species. The soul – which carries the rebellion and the capacity of mutation – is one that allows thoughts and behaviors that break the established moral, thereby contributing to the evolution of this species. He says it is the tension generated by these two conflicting and interdependent natures, and the dialogue between these forces – the conservative and the transgressive – that allow human beings to transcend themselves.

“There is no tradition without betrayal. And there is no betrayal without tradition.” Just look at the history of mankind only to find, in various forms of human expression, the beauty and truth of this statement: from Michelangelo to Picasso, from Beethoven to Stockhausen, from Isadora Duncan to Pina Bausch, from Brunelleschi to Frank Gehry, from Shakespeare to Guimaraes Rosa … human evolution depends mainly on acts that, through the eyes of customs and tradition, are deemed as betrayals. But betrayal would be not to give voice to our transgressive souls, for they are the ones who provide us with pleasure and evolution in our existence.

About the play ::  www.almaimoral.com
‘Our Immoral soul’, Rabbi Nilton Bonder, 2001, Shambhala.