(8/2021) Whether the realization is sharp or dull, it is nonetheless true that for being humans, we sure hate humans. The beginning of an arts column article might seem like an odd place to bring up mankind's inconvenient tendency to self-resentment. While the objection might be granted, there is an inherent unity to the method of art and the accusation. When new buildings are produced, new models of vehicles or styles of clothing released, or even something so obviously related to aesthetics as a new sculpture, there is frequently some form of complaint about humanity disturbing nature for his own aesthetic profit. Regardless of whether the form produced is actually beautiful, it would be incredibly unfair to accuse man as being such an infinitely self-centered creature that he would willingly destroy the environment just for his viewing pleasure.

Regardless of how visually pleasing something is, one of the key principles that makes that something qualify as art is the presence of creation. Art is something that is made out of necessity. Making something, in this respect, is the exercise of the limited human power to bring an object into being, or to change it fundamentally. Destruction, on the other hand, is the elimination of what is already in a state of being. As such, the two in and of themselves cannot ever share the same goal. Art is directed towards existence, while destruction is directed towards inexistence. While the creation of art may require the usage of different pieces to create it, nothing is actually destroyed in the process. In the creation of a statue, the granite that it is made of is not eliminated from existence. Notably, the excess material is shed to carefully construct a new design out of the solid block it once was.

From this point of argument, it can be suggested that to create something else, the root items of it have to be destroyed. This perception, especially in art, is incorrect. For each art form, materials are not themselves destroyed to create the aesthetically appealing object, but rather changed. Take, for example, the same idea of a statue made of granite. The unnecessary stone is chipped away, only to reveal a carefully drawn design by the sculptor. While the granite is no longer in the shape of a block, it still is granite. The actual material itself has not changed, but rather has been altered into a different form. In this sense, it can be said that art is transformative by nature, rather than destructive. The essence of the materials is not destroyed but made into something altogether new without removing the value of the underlying elements.

In addition to art being a change in form rather than material, it serves an additional purpose of preservation rather than destruction. Without a doubt, the natural world in which we live is perhaps the most beautiful collection of objects the human eye can ever perceive. True art, as a result, has what is best described as a "minimally invasive" interaction with this natural environment. This environment encapsulates all of human activity, whether that activity is positive or negative. Since art itself is also a human activity, it is not possible for it to be separate in any way from the environment in which it occurs. As a result, it would be once again unfair to accuse art of destroying natural beauty, as to do so would make the aesthetic produced not art in any respect.

It would be impossible to deny, however, that art does in some way change or challenge the natural beauty around it. While it is certainly founded on the rules established in the environment, art is, plain and simple, a modification of that environment according to what appeals to the human eye. Think, for example, of the red brick used in many houses during the early days (and even until modern times in some fortunate places). The often-deep red of the brick, when seen alone, is not enough to draw much attention. Sure, it may look nice, but the goal lies elsewhere. Certain shades of red when paired with green accentuate one another through contrast, and the same occurs when snow falls, and the deeper reds show a nearly direct opposite to the bright white. In this case, the two elements, natural and manmade, work together in a kind of harmony to produce a pleasant image for the viewer. It is almost as if man tames nature into the image he desires, destroying none of it but rather adding to it and molding it to produce something not entirely new but nonetheless unique.

It still has to be considered that taste applies in this as in all circumstances. While it is true that some works (especially in modern circles) do not possess the required principles to be art even when paired with nature, there are plenty of individual examples that possess all yet are still complained about as violating nature. As with anything to do with any form of art, something can be good and artful and yet not according to taste. Some colors are more attractive to some, and some forms are more attractive to others. Nothing can be done to change it, making the important part only to accept that some art is objectively beautiful but just not to personal preference. Some might find log cabins to be aesthetically pleasing when paired with the natural environment, while others might find metal or stone the same. None of the positions would be incorrect, as each art is appealing and valid equally, though not to the individual.

I was fortunate enough over the past month to experience these ideas firsthand at a wooden flooring job, where much of the work revolves around natural beauty. Stains are selected not to destroy the naturally appearing grain and imperfections of the wood, but instead to enhance them with bright hues of gray and brown. The rough slices of wood themselves are carefully reworked into new shapes and forms to be used more easily in everyday life. Rather than viewing the matter as a tree simply being destroyed, in the extended picture it is transformed from a towering plant into a timeless picture of natural work fused with human work. Taken as a whole, these individual actions produce something new and beautiful, not only the destruction of something already beautiful. Nature morphs into something more than itself, into a natural floor. It may sound cheesy, but it is a perfect sentiment all the same.

It is incredibly easy to think that art destroys or ruins nature. If you were to make a survey, it might not be a surprise to find that a majority of those polled would answer in exact agreement. As always, however, the agreement of the majority is hardly an ample justification for a belief. In this case, playing around with the terminology of art itself, it gradually becomes clear that art cannot be a destructive force. Rather than destroy, it must create. Instead of tearing down, it has to transform. It is the exercise of man’s greatest feature, second only to that of reason. The relationship of art to nature is one of creation, in which the old is not destroyed but strengthened and transformed into something still itself and yet still new, something that not only justifies the process of art even in these utilitarian times, but also resounds with the human spirit.