Understanding Beauty Through the Lens of Empathy

One of my most distinct recollections of beauty does not sit solitarily in a glass display at a museum — nor is it frozen in the frames of a photograph or a canvas; nor is it trapped in the confines of a screen; nor is it settled in a veil of words. It transpires in a dimly lit kitchen, pots and pans cluttered, dishes piling up, a pot on the stove bubbling like an alchemist’s experiment, tiles too cold to walk on barefoot, and a woman carefully slicing slivers of onions. It’s my mother, after a long day at work dealing with seedy clients, sometimes cumbersome colleagues, and atrocious LA traffic. After such experiences, she often comes home frazzle-haired and weary, her clothes wrinkled and her sighs audible from the room next door. Yet, her voice still tinkles, her posture remains upright, and her smile never leaves her face when she sees me and my brother greet her. The image of her in the kitchen holds these connotations — of her hardships, her kindness, her resilience. I understand what she undergoes every day, making her positive countenance all the more golden. It evokes a myriad of emotions, such as guilt, pride, love; above all, I recognize awe as the most prevalent. This is the same awe that I read about in books, that I am supposed to feel when I look at magnificent works of art in world-renowned collections. But all of them pale in comparison to her lonesome figure and the memories that trail behind.

I rarely have such experiences where I truly felt something was as beautiful, but they exist, and all of them have one thing in common — empathy. My mother may have been one of my first meaningful encounters with this emotion, however I find that my perception of beauty through empathy is not recurring; it is not limited to subjects I’ve found beautiful in the past. I don’t find everything related to my mother as beautiful; I still struggle with our differences and find small things to nitpick that I may never come to terms with. Yet, the nature of my connection to her overwrites everything else. Empathy serves as a cornerstone in understanding beauty — what we empathize with offers glimpses into ourselves and a reverence that cannot be modeled by external expectations and standards.

Merriam-Webster dictionary defines empathy as “the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner.” There is also a second definition offered: “the imaginative projection of a subjective state into an object so that the object appears to be infused with it” (Merriam-Webster). The first definition is relevant because it offers insight into why human experiences and interactions can be beautiful; the second is equally important because it shows how the parameters of beauty are not limited to just humans and extend to the inanimate or intangible. What these definitions both have in common, though, is the desire of the beholder to both understand and infuse a part of themselves with their subject. A classic example of this is the relationship between artists and their subjects. Based on my experience as a painter, I would find myself naturally gravitating toward either magical, abstract concepts or natural, mundane views. In hindsight, the juxtaposition of these two aesthetics seems jarring. It’s strange that the fantastical scenes of glittering, wooded landscapes with odd creatures and the light unfurling across my bedroom wall from my sunset lamp share the same capacity to mesmerize me. Yet, I realize now I project my emotions and significance upon these concepts and objects because I want to see myself reflected in the world around me while taking in aspects of my environment to feel more connected.

My gravitation toward these dream-like scenes in my art reveals my escapist tendencies, but escapism in the first place serves to offer solace and inspiration to those afflicted with it. When we fail to find beauty in the reality around us, it is only natural that we look beyond the explicit realm to search for havens that can fulfill our curiosities and embrace our desires. Of course fairies and elves and mermaids aren’t real — but what I find beautiful today is often shaped by the existence of these imaginative figures that I so desperately sought after and wanted to be when I was younger. They could tap into the vastness of the sky, the depth of the ocean, and the abyss of the forest that I found both inaccessible and irresistible to me as a young child and even now as an adult. These fantasy-like scenes and creatures were physical manifestations of my desire to connect with glorified views of nature, while merging unnatural, magnificent themes with my humanity. Likewise, my appreciation for small, ordinary things in my life represents the same desire to connect and imbue my essence into my surroundings. Objectively, the light from my sunset lamp is just a byproduct of an object that I use to keep my room reasonably bright. Yet, the comfort I feel when I see it reflecting off my wall is a result of the memories I associate with that light and the properties of the light that I also want to embody. Some of my best memories with my friends are encompassed in that yellow-orange glow, and the recollection of such belonging and joy is reflective of the same safe havens I would desperately search for in the fantasies in my head. In a less metaphorical sense, the light itself is warm, inviting and cozy, all of which are features I want to emulate in my own self. Of course, these are all connotations I’ve attached to these inanimate objects and themes, but these emotions are proof of how I’m learning and connecting with the world around me. As a result, I find myself wanting to paint these subjects that inspire me, even if they are wildly different in aesthetics.

However, things and people can still be considered beautiful even if we don’t directly empathize with them — why? Why are the paintings of Van Gogh and Picasso, the cascading water of the Niagara Falls, the angular, sculpted face of Angelina Jolie, or the undulating notes from Beethoven’s Fur Elise considered universally beautiful if most of us don’t have a deep, meaningful connection with the artists or the pieces themselves? It is because we attach meaning to — we empathize with — the beauty standards constructed by society rather than the subjects in question. When I see these people, places and pieces, I find myself not wanting to personally invest myself in them, but instead hoping to grasp the elusive nature of societal beauty. The role of connection comes in wanting to empathize with the rest of the world — or at least, what I perceive the rest of the world thinks. Unfortunately, such generalizations do us little good when we want to effectively shape our understanding of beauty. We train ourselves to seek acceptance among the beauty standards, but such standards are often not inclusive or are built upon inequality or injustice. Although the concept of belonging is not necessarily problematic, the narrow range and non-universality of such existing societal standards does pose an issue. As such, it is incredibly important to rely on our innate desire to connect and understand the tangible and intangible world, rather than trying to feel and comprehend from an already existing blueprint with various missing pieces.

What humans find beautiful is entirely subjective, but the role of empathy focuses the scope of beauty to our respective surroundings, influences, and upbringings, as well as the emotional connections formed through all of these factors. By trying to immerse ourselves in the world around us and learning of the circumstances or nature of humans, phenomena, etc., we forge our own aesthetics and learn to see the world as an extension of ourselves, and vice versa.

Works Cited

Merriam-Webster. (n.d.). Empathy definition & meaning. Merriam-Webster. Retrieved February 21, 2022, from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/empathy