An Article by A. V. (718 words, 4 min. read)
The Soul’s Deepest Language
Art has always been more than decoration; it is a mirror of the human soul. And what the soul longs for, above all, is beauty. In a world overwhelmed by conflict, noise, and chaos, art has the rare and sacred power to soothe, to uplift, and to remind us of the quiet dignity of life. As Marc Chagall once said, “Great art picks up where nature ends.”
When nature is torn or silent, it is beauty in art that restores our sense of belonging.
The Deep Human Need for Beauty
There is something in us that longs for beauty, not surface decoration, but something deeper, more essential. Beauty is what softens the soul, lifts the heart, and reminds us that there is still meaning in a fractured world. In times of pain, beauty is not an escape but a form of survival.
Art, when it is beautiful, becomes a refuge. It doesn’t ignore suffering, yet it answers it with grace. As Simone Weil wrote, “Beauty captivates the flesh in order to obtain permission to pass right to the soul.”
This is what great art can do: offer comfort without illusion, truth without violence, healing without forgetting.
Art Must Heal, Not Harm
Art should be beautiful, not to flatter or seduce, but to elevate. Beauty is not about prettiness; it is about harmony, presence, and the ability to restore something broken inside us. An artist who chooses beauty is not being naive; they are being generous. They are building a space where others can breathe again.
In a chaotic world, art has the responsibility to build, not to destroy. It should give us something to hold onto. A beautiful painting, a graceful sculpture, a luminous photograph: these are not indulgences, but necessities. They keep us human.
The Rise of Darkness in Art
And yet, much of contemporary art has turned away from beauty. The rise of distortion, violence, and darkness in art is not new, it echoes moments in history marked by trauma. Works by Francis Bacon, Otto Dix, or Goya reflect agony, despair, war. These paintings are powerful. They awaken. They provoke.
But here lies the danger: provocation is not the same as healing. Ugly art may scream, but it rarely soothes. It can shake us awake, yes. But then what? After the scream, we are left alone in the silence. No hand is extended. No light is offered. Darkness without redemption is just more darkness.
The Argument for Ugly Art And Its Limits
To be fair, ugliness has its place in the history of art. Picasso’s Guernica was not meant to be beautiful. It was meant to shock. It carried the weight of war, fear, and atrocity. And it succeeded. We cannot deny the power of such works. They witness suffering. They call attention to what society tries to forget.
But not all “ugly art” carries such purpose. Too often, darkness is mistaken for depth, and chaos for originality. When ugliness becomes aesthetic, when despair becomes fashionable, art loses its soul. It becomes empty. It stops giving, and starts taking.
Art as a Force for Good
True art offers more than confrontation. It offers transformation. Art should be beautiful not to ignore suffering, but to respond to it with hope. Artists like Henri Matisse understood this. In the midst of illness and war, he created radiant colors and flowing forms. “What I dream of,” he wrote, “is an art of balance, of purity and serenity… something like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.”
Beauty in art is not a weakness. It is a strength. It requires faith in humanity, and the courage to offer peace instead of pain. When the world is burning, beauty becomes an act of resistance.
Art Will Save the World
We should not ask art only to provoke, to scream, to disturb. Let us also ask it to soothe, to unite, to remind us of what is still sacred. Let art be a bridge, not a wall.
Art will not save the world through violence or shock. It will save it through beauty, through the quiet, persistent act of showing us what is still worth loving.
