Ordinary beauty is a powerful concept which seems to have gone missing.
And it's not about lavishing everything with ornament or masterful artistic quality.
Nor is it about a single aesthetic or style, because there are many different ways for something to be beautiful.
Ordinary beauty is about a minimum level of intention to create something which is more than merely functional.
It's the presence of some aesthetic value, even a small amount.
It's the difference between these two welcome signs:
The result of ordinary beauty is that our world becomes a place we *want* to live in.
That shouldn't sound revolutionary, but it is.
When the simple things have aesthetic quality, it reminds us that there is something *more* to being human than work, stress, and commuting.
It's also a form of public trust.
When the things around you look like this, why the hell should you care about them?
Because when no effort has been made to humanise the world you're living in, why would we think the world cares about you either?
But when there's some considered aesthetic value to public buildings, it creates a shared sense of respect and belief.
It facilitates community and social trust in a subtle but profound way.
Just compare these two town halls...
Libraries are another great example.
Important public buildings, intended for the community, and supposed to be places of learning, scholarship, and inspiration.
But you wouldn't know it based on how libraries are now built.
And it creates a sense of pride in your town and community.
When things look a bit *nicer* people are more inclined to maintain them, clean them, and look after them.
No wonder the UK's new phone boxes are all graffitied and destroyed...
Even drainpipes can have aesthetic charm!
A lack of ordinary beauty has catastrophic social, environmental, cultural, and psychological implications.
It creates cities and towns and public spaces people *don't like* being in.
And perhaps worse, it seems those spaces *don't like* people either.
Studies have proven that ugly or bland urban spaces are psychologically harmful.
People become more stressed and less happy.
Is it any wonder people are so unhappy when their towns and cities look like this?!
Even the simple addition of trees can utterly transform an urban environment:
Tellingly, people actually walk *faster* in uglier urban spaces. Head down, thinking about whatever problems are affecting their lives...
That's what a lack of ordinary beauty does. It disconnects us from the world in a very literal way.
Meanwhile, ugly buildings are much more likely to be demolished in the future, thus incurring a huge additional and unnecessary economic and environmental cost.
We don't yet know the consequences of a bland world.
But when kids are being educated in schools that look like prisons, when public buildings inspire no trust or belief, when people actively dislike walking down the streets...
It can't be good.
Why has beauty in the ordinary died?
Perhaps it reflects a deep cultural shift. Perhaps the 21st century is all about spreadsheet economics and bureaucratic budgets.
Ordinary beauty has no place in such a world; aesthetics are no longer an important factor.
And so, while it's easy to feel like the blandness of the modern world is inevitable, we shouldn't resign ourselves to it.
Ordinary things - even bins, to come full circle - can possess that quality which makes human existence more than automatic: beauty.
Alas, that's probably enough for now. Time to listen to Bruckner's 5th Symphony...
What are some other examples of beauty in the ordinary?
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If one thing sums up the 21st century it's got to be all these default profile pictures.
You've seen them literally thousands of times, but they're completely generic and interchangeable.
Future historians will use them to symbolise our current era, and here's why...
To understand what any society truly believed, and how they felt about humankind, you need to look at what they created rather than what they said.
Just as actions instead of words reveal who a person really is, art always tells you what a society was actually like.
And this is particularly true of how they depicted human beings — how we portray ourselves.
That the Pharaohs were of supreme power, and were worshipped as gods far above ordinary people, is made obvious by the sheer size and abundance of the statues made in their name:
It's over 500 years old and the perfect example of a strange architectural style known as "Brick Gothic".
But, more importantly, it's a lesson in how imagination can transform the way our world looks...
Vilnius has one of the world's best-preserved Medieval old towns.
It's a UNESCO World Heritage Site, filled with winding streets and architectural gems from across the ages.
A testament to the wealth, grandeur, and sophistication of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.
Among its many treasures is the Church of St Anne, built from 1495 to 1500 under the Duke of Lithuania and (later) King of Poland, Alexander I Jagiellon.
It's not particularly big — a single nave without aisles — but St Anne's makes up for size with its fantastical brickwork.
The Spanish edition of my new book, El Tutor Cultural, is now available for pre-order.
It'll be released on 22 October — and you can get it at the link in my bio.
To celebrate, here are the 10 best things I've written about Spain: from why Barcelona looks the way it does to one of the world's most underrated modern architects, from the truth about Pablo Picasso to the origins of the Spanish football badge...
What makes Barcelona such a beautiful city? It wasn't an accident — this is the story of how the modern, beloved Barcelona was consciously created: