I love my hometown cathedral. Ever since I was a teenager I would roam the grounds, lost in my thoughts or fantasy and sometimes even drop to my knees engage in prayer, though I'm not religious. Recently I had begun to entertain the idea of embracing Roman Catholicism until an unexpected twist of fate disrupted my journey. I moved location and paid my new Catholic Church a visit.
What stood before me was an austere structure lacking the ethereal beauty and mysticism that had enthralled me in my own magnificent cathedral. There were no flickering candles casting a warm glow, no kaleidoscope of stained glass windows, and certainly no beautifully carved wooden pews. The ambiance resembled more of a utilitarian community hall with fibre glass ceilings than a sacred sanctuary. Silly as it sounds I felt as though I'd been punched. Like someone had wrenched stars out of the sky because they preferred the design, or it was more cost efficient. Indeed, a simple walk through my garden with a cup of tea offers more of a religious experience.
In that single moment the allure of becoming a Catholic disappeared. The idea was suddenly pointless and ridiculous and I went home and cancelled my order of prayer cards. Why pursue a path that lacked the very essence which had captured my heart? Though I'm not religious, in my old cathedral at least I seemed to be having a religious experience.
Something else that struck me rather profoundly was the absence of others in attendance, and I assume now this was because of the absence of beauty. Gone were the curious souls, the seekers of awe who would step inside to witness the breathtaking grandeur of the old cathedral. Here, both the faithful and unfaithful were nowhere to be found.
There is something about cathedrals that keeps people coming back to you century after century. They are divinely creative. It's a thing that transcends the boundaries of faith and captivates the heart of even the most ardent non-believer, drawing them to venture into their beauty to bear witness to the magnificent splendour they hold. It bares mentioning that they are also safe hubs for introverts to charge their social batteries, without all the small talk. Some of the remaining sanctuaries for introverts, where both people and quietness reside, lie in our local libraries. Which i also love.
So, I had a bit of a moment. It got me thinking about beauty as it pertains to architecture more generally. Much of what is built today seems to be detached from any artistic spirit. Though I'm sure a lover of Brutalist architecture would say otherwise. As I drove to town this morning, my eyes fell on the thatched roofs of quaint old houses juxtaposed with the drab concrete structures dominating modern living. For probably a combination of reasons contemporary structures have eschewed elegance for utilitarian functionality, leaving behind a trail of sterile, uninspiring edifices. It seems like in our relentless pursuit of progress, we have painfully neglected the pursuit of beauty.
I'm not suggesting a blind imitation of the past, but I do believe that present day society is lacking in terms of aesthetic beauty. What do you think?