Essay due for John Dobson's History of Aesthetics class.
Experience a constructed landscape [Golden Gate Park, Yerba Buena,...] and compare it with an experience in Nature [beach, hike on a mountain,...].
Comparison: Tuscany's Hills vs. Golden Gate Park
Excerpts:
- "And that’s where I lost myself. Drawn in such beauty and freedom, I, from there, never departed..."
- "So, by keep building cities and cover the land, are we covering these answers as well?"
- "...it is interesting to think how we sometimes need to go to beautiful places in order to get out of them."
- "It felt like I had opened the door of an elementary classroom and all the kids had run outside for recess."
- "...because we cannot find all the answers, our thoughts become purer, we lose any social constructs that block our imagination, our childish brain, and so we explore..."
SPOILER ALERT:
A constructed landscape is a place where we can break from reality, and go where we would like to be. A natural landscape is a place where we can break from our self, and go where we once were. Pythagoras believed that by thinking we allow the soul to travel back where it used to be. I bet he would love Tuscany’s hills.
It’s a warm summer and two friends with no directions are about to enter the most beautiful hills of Italy. They crossed the border in the morning, and they drove; through the one country where first was culture and then was the nation, yet never the people.
They saw threads of haze levitating above commanding arches, that history are there to represent. It was a sight to observe Gothic needles penetrating that wreck of threads, “What a wonder it is! So grand, so solemn, so vast! And yet so delicate, so airy, so graceful!” [Mark Twain].
They still had four hours to go, and more admiration to provoke. Poetry was all around them and names were there to testify it as they drove along the Autostrada del Sole [“Freeway of the Sun”] towards Piacenza [“to please”], and believe me the experience and the soul were pleased indeed.
After small fractions, big factories, and few trucks, the sign on the road announced another city, another history, another dialect and other beauties. They call this one La Dotta, La Grassa, o La Rossa. Home of the first University, mother of Tortellini and Tagliatelle, splashed with red roofs sheltering history and culture. In the XIII century Guido Guinizzelli and his Dolce Stil Novo walked these narrow streets, with the mind floating in desire and expression; the vision of such was worthless to put in word, for the dream itself used a language of a too greater level. Like the Padre, so, one of the two friends, once left his heart in this city of Bologna, and gentle it was because such love had been returned.
It’s a warm summer and two friends with no directions are about to enter the most beautiful hills of Italy. They have no idea where they’re going, they just know that the destination is a village by the name of Lajatico, Tuscany. As they open the door of Tuscany, the imagery of the landscape overcomes their eyes. A vast blanket of colorful fields, sunflowers, vineyards, and cypresses appear, grandly, softly. The intensity of the city has left air for the country, nature, and raw beauty. They turn the page, and the street sign reads “Firenze 5Km”; in the chapter are the Galleria degli Uffizi, Il Duomo di Firenze, Il Palazzo Vecchio, La Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, whose dome’s shadow was believed to cover the whole Tuscany. But in the textbooks they’ve never felt so small compared to such amount of culture, art, history, and personalities. They ask for direction to “an old man, hoary with the hair of eld”, his poetic choice of words resounds in their ears, gently; grateful, they proceed. Approaching the historic neighborhoods they see Il Poeta encountering Beatrice for the second and last time. Few blocks away is Leonardo, observing nature. They sit next to him and acknowledging their presence, he spoke:
Feeling more and more inferior, yet enriched, the two friends keep driving towards Lajatico.
After soft turns among splendid hills, they spot a little village composed of few medieval houses surrounded by a wall of trees. Right before entering the town, a poster on the street reads “Teatro Del Silenzio →”. They follow the directions, which will lead them to the event they came here for: an appreciation of music, art, and opera organized by tenor Andrea Bocelli. They enter deeper and deeper into the hills, the asphalt ends and the street becomes a strip of dirt with smooth and wavy hills on both sides. The sun reveals all the different shades of green, yellow, brown, and our friends are now immersed in nature. No houses on sight, no people, no cables, just them and Nature.
They get off their car, and walk on the grass towards the gentle slope of the hill. They lie down, far apart, and start enjoying.
And that’s where I lost myself.
Drawn in such beauty and freedom, I, from there, never departed, and still today I sometimes go back and lie down on that soft hill. I remember the feeling of carefree, joyful, sparkling excitement as I gazed through the landscape. The words of Leonardo were still echoing in my mind, and my thought wondered on how this happened. How and why so good, so tastefully, so beautifully. A beauty that if described would merely sound pretty and cute, unless such ears had previously lived the lovely noise of those hills. A beauty that cannot be understood, but simply enjoyed for what it is. A beauty which incites dilemmas into the curious’ mind, and which often leaves the latter questioning and formulating beliefs, ideals, ideas. I keep moving my hands to feel the grass, the soil, to feel the dearest of the Mothers.
There is no wonder why the greatest man of the history used to come on these hills to borrow Nature’s inventions and apply them to humans. The answers are in Mother Nature, they are out there, for the ones who can observe and contemplate.
So, by keep building cities and cover the land, are we covering these answers as well?
I remember having this train of thoughts and as I realized where I had arrived with it, I felt extremely light, and fresh. It took me out of the present environment and uplifted me. I had completely forgot about the presence of my friend, nor I was actually looking at the panorama.
It was great and it is interesting to think how we sometimes need to go to beautiful places in order to get out of them.
Another great element of experiences in Nature like the one I had in Tuscany, is that it allows continuous and random thinking. It felt like I had opened the door of an elementary classroom and all the kids had run outside for recess.
Time was controlled by the sun, so the perception of the first quickly faded, leaving me happily in the present [which, with no awareness of time, can be virtually prolonged, or perceived prolonged, as it happened]. And what was even more exciting is that the whole purpose of the journey was yet to start, Il Teatro del Silenzio [The Theater of the Silence]. Del Silenzio, yes because when I found myself immersed in the beauty I’ve been trying to describe so far, words were not enough and in such cases, I rather let silence talk for them.
I find this excerpt, from one of the most beautiful movies ever written, extremely relevant to the moments I was living. When my mind came back to Tuscany, and I looked at my friend, I comprehended something I’ve never thought about. Because when I turned my head and found my friend’s eyes, the only word that came out of my mouth was “WOW”. Wow is a term that is often used in similar situations, where words can only ruin the experience you’ve lived and that you’re now trying to explain. I started to wonder why does this word come out in such situations, how it originated, and so on. Until I finally realized that, as written before, in instances where language cannot translate feelings, and therefore only silence should be allowed to talk, we can still use one word, a no-word: WOW, WithOut Words. My appreciation for this word grew instantly, and so its value, its weight, and its use, therefore, ought to be carefully chosen, for the abuse of it would make it futile, and as we must know, silence is all but futile.
One last thought about Nature is that it is natural. We don’t decide whether to have it or not, nor how we want to have it. It is something we join. On the other hand, a constructed Nature is an attempt to invite Nature to its own party: Nature will come because it is its house, but its presence will never be as spontaneous and pleasant as if we were invited to its party, as it did with me in Tuscany.
I took a walk in the Golden Gate Park, and I admit it is beautiful. Getting lost in the trails among tall trees, and the dirt scent evoke a gorgeous feeling. But the awareness of being surrounded by buildings, cars, streets, signs, does not allow my mind to reach places high as the ones I can explore when immersed in natural Nature. No wonder why the greatest thinkers of all time would formulate ideas and philosophies meditating on top of mountains, in the middle of the sea, at the bottom of hills, or in their dreams. These are places that we don’t know fully, and we can’t know fully. And it is only once you don’t know that you can discover, enlighten, aspire and get inspired.
In a constructed landscape we have the obstacle of certainty. The mind is not allowed to wonder by looking at Nature because we know where the trees are coming from, we know why there is a pond on top of a hill, and we also know that whatever happens we can easily [usually] get out of it and come back to our safe, known reality. But in natural Nature this does not happen. There, our minds are encouraged to find answers; and because we cannot find all the answers, our thoughts become purer, we lose any social constructs that block our imagination, our childish brain, and so we explore paths never walked, seas never sailed, and peaks never dared to touch before, aware that there is no good or bad answer, no “right” answer, no answer: WOA.
A constructed landscape is a place where we can break from reality, and go where we would like to be. A natural landscape is a place where we can break from our self, and go where we once were. Pythagoras believed that by thinking we allow the soul to travel back where it used to be. I bet he would love Tuscany’s hills.
Experience a constructed landscape [Golden Gate Park, Yerba Buena,...] and compare it with an experience in Nature [beach, hike on a mountain,...].
Comparison: Tuscany's Hills vs. Golden Gate Park
Excerpts:
- "And that’s where I lost myself. Drawn in such beauty and freedom, I, from there, never departed..."
- "So, by keep building cities and cover the land, are we covering these answers as well?"
- "...it is interesting to think how we sometimes need to go to beautiful places in order to get out of them."
- "It felt like I had opened the door of an elementary classroom and all the kids had run outside for recess."
- "...because we cannot find all the answers, our thoughts become purer, we lose any social constructs that block our imagination, our childish brain, and so we explore..."
SPOILER ALERT:
A constructed landscape is a place where we can break from reality, and go where we would like to be. A natural landscape is a place where we can break from our self, and go where we once were. Pythagoras believed that by thinking we allow the soul to travel back where it used to be. I bet he would love Tuscany’s hills.
“Do not invite the Host”
They saw threads of haze levitating above commanding arches, that history are there to represent. It was a sight to observe Gothic needles penetrating that wreck of threads, “What a wonder it is! So grand, so solemn, so vast! And yet so delicate, so airy, so graceful!” [Mark Twain].
They still had four hours to go, and more admiration to provoke. Poetry was all around them and names were there to testify it as they drove along the Autostrada del Sole [“Freeway of the Sun”] towards Piacenza [“to please”], and believe me the experience and the soul were pleased indeed.
After small fractions, big factories, and few trucks, the sign on the road announced another city, another history, another dialect and other beauties. They call this one La Dotta, La Grassa, o La Rossa. Home of the first University, mother of Tortellini and Tagliatelle, splashed with red roofs sheltering history and culture. In the XIII century Guido Guinizzelli and his Dolce Stil Novo walked these narrow streets, with the mind floating in desire and expression; the vision of such was worthless to put in word, for the dream itself used a language of a too greater level. Like the Padre, so, one of the two friends, once left his heart in this city of Bologna, and gentle it was because such love had been returned.
It’s a warm summer and two friends with no directions are about to enter the most beautiful hills of Italy. They have no idea where they’re going, they just know that the destination is a village by the name of Lajatico, Tuscany. As they open the door of Tuscany, the imagery of the landscape overcomes their eyes. A vast blanket of colorful fields, sunflowers, vineyards, and cypresses appear, grandly, softly. The intensity of the city has left air for the country, nature, and raw beauty. They turn the page, and the street sign reads “Firenze 5Km”; in the chapter are the Galleria degli Uffizi, Il Duomo di Firenze, Il Palazzo Vecchio, La Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, whose dome’s shadow was believed to cover the whole Tuscany. But in the textbooks they’ve never felt so small compared to such amount of culture, art, history, and personalities. They ask for direction to “an old man, hoary with the hair of eld”, his poetic choice of words resounds in their ears, gently; grateful, they proceed. Approaching the historic neighborhoods they see Il Poeta encountering Beatrice for the second and last time. Few blocks away is Leonardo, observing nature. They sit next to him and acknowledging their presence, he spoke:
“I roamed the countryside
searching for answers to things I did not understand.
Why shells existed on tops of mountains
along with imprints of coral and plants and seaweed
usually found in the sea.
Why the thunder lasts a longer time than that which causes it,
and why immediately on its creation
the lightning becomes visible to the eye
while thunder requires time to travel.
How the various circles of water form around the spot
which has been struck by a stone,
and why a bird sustains itself in the air.
These questions and other strange phenomena
engage my thought throughout my life.”
Feeling more and more inferior, yet enriched, the two friends keep driving towards Lajatico.
After soft turns among splendid hills, they spot a little village composed of few medieval houses surrounded by a wall of trees. Right before entering the town, a poster on the street reads “Teatro Del Silenzio →”. They follow the directions, which will lead them to the event they came here for: an appreciation of music, art, and opera organized by tenor Andrea Bocelli. They enter deeper and deeper into the hills, the asphalt ends and the street becomes a strip of dirt with smooth and wavy hills on both sides. The sun reveals all the different shades of green, yellow, brown, and our friends are now immersed in nature. No houses on sight, no people, no cables, just them and Nature.
They get off their car, and walk on the grass towards the gentle slope of the hill. They lie down, far apart, and start enjoying.
“Every man, woman, and child alive should see these hills one time before they die.
Nothin' at all for miles around.
Nothin' but grass and colors and plants and blue sky.
Not a soul in sight.
No sirens.
No car alarms.
Nobody honkin' atcha.
No madmen cursin' or pissin' in the streets.
You find the silence out here, you find the peace.
You can find God.”
[25th Hour rmx]
And that’s where I lost myself.
Drawn in such beauty and freedom, I, from there, never departed, and still today I sometimes go back and lie down on that soft hill. I remember the feeling of carefree, joyful, sparkling excitement as I gazed through the landscape. The words of Leonardo were still echoing in my mind, and my thought wondered on how this happened. How and why so good, so tastefully, so beautifully. A beauty that if described would merely sound pretty and cute, unless such ears had previously lived the lovely noise of those hills. A beauty that cannot be understood, but simply enjoyed for what it is. A beauty which incites dilemmas into the curious’ mind, and which often leaves the latter questioning and formulating beliefs, ideals, ideas. I keep moving my hands to feel the grass, the soil, to feel the dearest of the Mothers.
There is no wonder why the greatest man of the history used to come on these hills to borrow Nature’s inventions and apply them to humans. The answers are in Mother Nature, they are out there, for the ones who can observe and contemplate.
So, by keep building cities and cover the land, are we covering these answers as well?
I remember having this train of thoughts and as I realized where I had arrived with it, I felt extremely light, and fresh. It took me out of the present environment and uplifted me. I had completely forgot about the presence of my friend, nor I was actually looking at the panorama.
It was great and it is interesting to think how we sometimes need to go to beautiful places in order to get out of them.
Another great element of experiences in Nature like the one I had in Tuscany, is that it allows continuous and random thinking. It felt like I had opened the door of an elementary classroom and all the kids had run outside for recess.
Time was controlled by the sun, so the perception of the first quickly faded, leaving me happily in the present [which, with no awareness of time, can be virtually prolonged, or perceived prolonged, as it happened]. And what was even more exciting is that the whole purpose of the journey was yet to start, Il Teatro del Silenzio [The Theater of the Silence]. Del Silenzio, yes because when I found myself immersed in the beauty I’ve been trying to describe so far, words were not enough and in such cases, I rather let silence talk for them.
“Because words are inert, they’re just symbols, they’re dead. And so much of our experience is intangible. So much of what we perceive cannot be expressed, it’s unspeakable. And yet, when we communicate with one another, and we feel that we have connected, and we think we are understood, I think we have a feeling of almost spiritual communion. And that feeling might be transient, but I think that’s what we live for.”
[A Waking Life]
I find this excerpt, from one of the most beautiful movies ever written, extremely relevant to the moments I was living. When my mind came back to Tuscany, and I looked at my friend, I comprehended something I’ve never thought about. Because when I turned my head and found my friend’s eyes, the only word that came out of my mouth was “WOW”. Wow is a term that is often used in similar situations, where words can only ruin the experience you’ve lived and that you’re now trying to explain. I started to wonder why does this word come out in such situations, how it originated, and so on. Until I finally realized that, as written before, in instances where language cannot translate feelings, and therefore only silence should be allowed to talk, we can still use one word, a no-word: WOW, WithOut Words. My appreciation for this word grew instantly, and so its value, its weight, and its use, therefore, ought to be carefully chosen, for the abuse of it would make it futile, and as we must know, silence is all but futile.
One last thought about Nature is that it is natural. We don’t decide whether to have it or not, nor how we want to have it. It is something we join. On the other hand, a constructed Nature is an attempt to invite Nature to its own party: Nature will come because it is its house, but its presence will never be as spontaneous and pleasant as if we were invited to its party, as it did with me in Tuscany.
I took a walk in the Golden Gate Park, and I admit it is beautiful. Getting lost in the trails among tall trees, and the dirt scent evoke a gorgeous feeling. But the awareness of being surrounded by buildings, cars, streets, signs, does not allow my mind to reach places high as the ones I can explore when immersed in natural Nature. No wonder why the greatest thinkers of all time would formulate ideas and philosophies meditating on top of mountains, in the middle of the sea, at the bottom of hills, or in their dreams. These are places that we don’t know fully, and we can’t know fully. And it is only once you don’t know that you can discover, enlighten, aspire and get inspired.
In a constructed landscape we have the obstacle of certainty. The mind is not allowed to wonder by looking at Nature because we know where the trees are coming from, we know why there is a pond on top of a hill, and we also know that whatever happens we can easily [usually] get out of it and come back to our safe, known reality. But in natural Nature this does not happen. There, our minds are encouraged to find answers; and because we cannot find all the answers, our thoughts become purer, we lose any social constructs that block our imagination, our childish brain, and so we explore paths never walked, seas never sailed, and peaks never dared to touch before, aware that there is no good or bad answer, no “right” answer, no answer: WOA.
“The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives.” [A. Einstein]
A constructed landscape is a place where we can break from reality, and go where we would like to be. A natural landscape is a place where we can break from our self, and go where we once were. Pythagoras believed that by thinking we allow the soul to travel back where it used to be. I bet he would love Tuscany’s hills.
2 comments:
Love the title and ideas Apo!
"...explore paths never walked, seas never sailed, and peaks never dared to touch before..." nicely said, good way to put what our minds are confined to from the day to day. Wish we could all tap into this higher thinking of our minds...without drugs, but with just the changing our setting more often.
Thanks Christian.
I agree, to get lost in beauty is a treat indeed.
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