Eyes of the beholder

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then how does one behold beauty if one's eyes do not work?

Steve Kuusisto has an essay in the Washington Post Magazine in which he tries to answer that question.

Because I am blind and cannot see faces, I must imagine them. I am helped in this daily round by the fact that I can see colors. Many blind people can see something of the world; my own small portion is essentially a kind of abstract expressionism: I live inside a Jackson Pollock painting, and I live there while walking the ordinary streets. This brand of walking and seeing is both maddening and lovely. I see faces like the shining leaves of jade trees -- wind-tossed and set against black boughs -- and I wonder what you look like. "You" are all friends and strangers alike. Occasionally, I allow myself to imagine that I see the inestimable and charged faces that we all suspect lie just below the surface. But in any event, I know you differently than do your hand mirrors or photographs. One thing I won't know is whether you are, in the ocular sense of the word, beautiful.

Read the rest of Steve's essay here.

Steve's new book, Eavesdropping, is about, among other things, how he "sees" the world he can't see.

Thanks to Connie for the heads-up and for keeping the homefires burning at Planet of the Blind.

Comments

[blue girl]

I read that yesterday. He's such a great, inspirational writer. I just love him. And your post here made me finally write a little post I've been meaning to write for weeks.

[Connie]

Lance, you are too kind. In more ways than one. Thank you. Steve's just back from Ireland and recovering from jet lag. He'll be in touch...