We are going to be tempted, fickle beings that we are. By the delicious glisten of a diamond under the bright lights of a shop window. By the beckoning soft touch of a cashmere jumper on a cold winter day. By the delicate kiss and fragile liquidity of a silk. They are whispers of comforting relief from the mundanities of everyday toil. They are clumsy symbols of who we are, of who we want to be, of our hopes and dreams, our successes and imaginations. Our stubborn practice of furnishing our bodies and our lives with beautiful little luxuries seems as part of being human as pain and joy and love and war. When I think of adorning my life with symbols of who I am, I think of beautiful things that I can admire, yes, but I also think of who I want to be and the values I hold dear. Is a thing beautiful if it is the product of pain and suffering? A thing’s intrinsic value as an item is nothing but an idea – clever marketing, carefully crafted consensus, and imagination. But the process of making that thing, though concealed, is very real; it’s the result of the labour of another human or animal, and the extraction of nature from it’s source before it’s reshaping into something new. It’s the breaking of earth, or a plant, and often a body, or a mind. If the beauty conceals a horror, is that something I want to symbolise who I am? Are we entitled, as humans, to take delight in harmful destruction? No and no. The diamond of rape and death, the wool of painful blood and scars, and the silk of deadly boiling water are not for me. It was Oscar Wilde who so aptly said “I can resist anything, except temptation”. When the temptation rises, remember that other human compulsion – love. If I can’t separate myself from this drive to find beautiful things to make art of my body, my home, my being, then I will fall into temptation, but I’ll do it with love; with understanding of how things are made, and compassion for those who make them. I will not clutch at beauty that conceals horror.
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