Some Larger Beauty
Some Larger Beauty
I saw this quote the other day by Donna Tartt, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it:
“Beautiful things connect you to some larger beauty.”
It’s simple, but it says a lot. There are these little moments—tiny, beautiful things you notice that feel like they open something up. A color that catches your eye, a line in a painting, a soft baby hand, or the shape of a flower that feels almost too perfect. They don’t always demand attention, but if you’re in the right headspace to really see them, they land in this quiet, powerful way. And you find yourself thinking, Wait… this matters. Even if you don’t know why.
I think about that pull I have to find beauty—not just to notice it but to make it. And sometimes I wonder why that desire is so strong. What is it in me that keeps reaching for beauty in the middle of everything else? And maybe, like the quote suggests, the beauty I’m drawn to is just a small reflection of something much bigger. Some larger beauty I don’t fully understand, but that I feel connected to when I’m open and present.
When I’m painting, especially when I’m in that intuitive flow state, it’s not about controlling everything. In fact, the pieces I love most are usually the ones where I’ve let go. I start with a basic structure—some shape, some energy—but from there, I follow where it leads. And it doesn’t feel like I’m “creating” beauty so much as uncovering it. Like it was already in there, and I’m just carving down into the layers to find it.
And I know not all art is about beauty. Some art is meant to make you uncomfortable, or to push a boundary, or to wake something up in the viewer. And there’s a kind of beauty in that too—not in how it looks, but in what it does. The places it takes your mind. The questions it raises. I’ve been drawn to that before in my own work, and I still have a deep respect for it.
But right now, where I’m at, I feel this need to create beauty. I want to make things that people can connect to in a joyful, grounding, maybe even soothing way. Not because it’s safe or expected, but because it feels real to me. It’s what I’m naturally reaching for.
And I’ve come to think that beauty isn’t one specific thing. It can be something soft and traditionally beautiful, or something unexpected or even unsettling. It can be the kind of beauty that offers immediate joy, or the kind that lingers and makes you think. I think there’s room for all of it.
What matters most is where it comes from. When we notice beauty—or try to create it—from a true and authentic place, I think we’re participating in something bigger. It’s not just about making something that looks nice. It’s about trying to tap into some larger pattern. Some feeling. Some higher energy. And sometimes I do wonder—why does it matter so much to me to find or create something beautiful? What am I really trying to do?
But maybe that’s the answer. Maybe the beauty I find—or the beauty I carve out when I’m painting—is just a small echo of something greater. A microcosm of some larger beauty I can’t fully explain but still feel connected to. And when something clicks, when I find that color or shape or moment that feels beautiful, I think that’s what’s really happening: I’m not just reacting to the thing in front of me—I’m touching the edge of something eternal.
I think l beautiful things”, whether we’re noticing them or seeking to create them, can become these little bridges. They connect us to something more. To the ultimate beauty. Something higher. Something sacred.