The Complicated Nature of Beauty
The complex beauty of the little red houses of rural Scandinavia
Scandinavia and red wooden houses. Synonymous and iconic. The rural landscape across these nations of lakes and forests is populated with these quaint, old red dwellings. They are something I have always longed to see, for I find the deep red timber set in a background of dark green conifers a such a splendid juxtaposition of colours that I can’t help but believe that they must have been preordained to eventually come together in this vast and wild landscape. It is a classic example of how human interaction in and with nature can enhance the beauty that was already present.1 When I saw some of these buildings for the first time a few weeks ago they did not disappoint and brought a huge smile to my face.
A complex thing, though, this beauty is.
It is a tragedy that this beautiful pigment is the by-product of man’s desecration of nature rather than its beautification.
reminded me recently of the dark origins of the paint that decks these dwellings and the story is worth telling. “Falu Red” has its genesis in the expansive Falun Mine in the Bergslagen forest region of Sweden. Digging deep and wide into the surface of the earth in pursuit of precious copper (for which this mine had almost a monopoly over in Europe) inflicted untold degradation upon the wild and wonderful landscape. The words of Carl Linnaeus, the famous Swedish Taxonomist, portray the on-the-ground realities vividly: “The Falun Mine is one of the great wonders of Sweden but as horrible as hell itself.”. The owners of the mine saw neither the wood nor the trees in their extractive pursuit, only a land to be plundered, pillaged, and exhausted. And the forest, lakes, and local people suffered.Tremendously so.
Though mines produce resources we moderns all desperately need, the “product” of the greatest volume produced by mines is, paradoxically, Waste. Over the millennia that this mine was in operation, huge quantities of toxic tailings and slag accumulated, adding to the despoliation of the landscape that this open pit copper mine inflicted. These “monumental wastes” are despised with good reason. Entrenched into the Welsh collective consciousness is the fateful day of 21 October 1966, when the coal mine spoil tip near Aberfan cascaded down the mountainside engulfing a primary school and suffocating the life out of 5 teachers and 109 children2 — a stark and brutal reminder of the lethal power of waste.
But the paradox of Falu Red is that out of the toxic, destructive, and wasteful sludge comes this beautiful pigment that adorns the quintessential Scandinavian home. Mixed with linseed oil and rye flour, the wastes from the mine create a weather-resistant paint in a rich and beautiful shade; ideal for protecting the wooden cottages and barns all over Scandinavia. It is as if the buildings are stained with the blood from the core of the deep, old earth in an emblematic act which creates beauty out of desecration, and preciousness out of waste. Perhaps in some small way, the creation of beautiful Falu Red redeems, in meagre part, the desecration Man has wrought in this wild and beautiful land.
The history of this complex pigment reminds us of a truth we are apt to forget: “that beauty is rarely pure, and never simple”.3 This is especially so in rural landscapes where the handiwork and influence of man upon nature is plain to see. A classic example: untold multitudes of peasants were forced off common lands by the Enclosure Acts of England, resulting in the patchwork landscape of small fields and meadows lined with ancient hedgerows that we love today. I am not arguing that we should despise or ignore the beauty that has resulted from immoral or unsavoury acts. Not at all. They can and should be enjoyed. But we must remember the costs that beauty has often wrought on the marginalised, the poor, and the defenceless, and thus seek in our own creation of beauty to avoid repeating the sins of our forefathers.
It is worth remembering too that our enjoyment of beauty today — even the pure and natural beauty we find in Creation — can also be fraught with complexity and unintended consequences. In the Age of Instagram, honeypot sites4 draw in droves of tourists who come to “consume” the beauty rather than delight in it. Tragically, they insert themselves into the limelight, with the sublimity of the landscape or the stunning building demoted to being the backdrop for the “main attraction” — the vain, hubristic glory of the Influencers. Perhaps more uncomfortably for my readers, it is worth considering how the immense popularity of places such as the Lake District has led to residents of rural communities being priced out of their villages and towns. The explosion of holiday lets are to greatly to blame as they have, through heightened competition for vacant houses, increased house prices dramatically — well beyond the means of these rural, often working class, residents.
Beauty. It is a complex thing indeed.
The contaminated complexity of much of the beauty around us is a hard and uncomfortable truth that needs to be wrestled with. But, even in the midst of complexity, moral ambiguity, and sometimes down right evil origins, we still should appreciate and cherish true beauty when we find it.5 Though its origins cannot be altered nor dismissed, our sensitive, educated, and wise enjoyment of it today can (in part) redeem and safeguard the intrinsic beauty that remains. May we all endeavour to be sensitive, considerate, and humble admirers.
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See Carwyn Graves wonderful book Tir and my review of it here for more on this point.
Many others also perished.
To put a spin on Oscar Wilde’s phrase “Truth is rarely pure, and never simple.”
Geographers term for places of extraordinary beauty and popularity.
Though I accept and agree that there may be some “beautiful” things e.g. a painting by Hitler, or a vernacular house funded through evil that are so contaminated that appreciation and admiration are impossible, or even wrong.
Hadden, thank you for shining a light on the cost that comes with beauty. As regrettable as it is in politics and culture, I think it even exists in nature. There is a cost incurred when a fruit tree produces an abundance of fruit, when a mother gives birth to a healthy baby, and when ocean waves crash upon white beaches. The cost is, in a sense, what makes things valuable. Not to say that we should pursue costly ventures simply for the sake of the value they can yield—I think here of hunting rhino for their horns—but rather that we should understand that nature is often as brutal as human endeavour. Just a thought.
Thank you, Hadden, for sharing this thoughtful and gracious piece.
In the midst of a humanity that is prone to miss the mark, I am grateful for those glimpses I get of beauty and goodness that the Lord enables me to see through my stumbling, clumsy walk upon this earth which I never manage to get quite right. This essay of yours reminds me of a truth that I am so grateful for: that no matter my mistakes or the mistakes of this human race I am a part of, my God is one who delights in redemption, even of the ugliest things.