The curves that nature creates embody life as it unfurls. Life is precious, thats why we perceive tendril-like, undulating curves as beautiful. How delighted I was to cut a myoga bud for garnishing my tofu, and find what looks like Art Nouveau lewellery, but self-designed, self-assembled.
My Inner-Sydney former neighbour Mario is an artist. He has beautified almost every inch of his home with ironwork, tiles, beads, sculpture, because he can, because this is his house, his one and only life. I love that. The stairs are beautiful, because the curves are true to nature. They could have grown like that, like seaweed floating. Look how the tips of the tendrils taper, the curve grows tighter as it unfurls. Curves that don't listen to nature, the geometric ones, they are a bit embarrased to exist, I can feel it.
I had about nine good friends in the street, and met all of them because they were spending time at their porches. Mario was playing the guitar on his doorstep. 'Hello, can I be your friend' is the natural response when you see such a sight.
Mario planted and cares for a garden that doesn't belong to him. Its the land beside his beautiful house. Look. More lovely curves.
A house or a garden doesn't become ours because we pay money and buy it. Its ours because we love it, and invest our vision and care and transformation skills in it. It takes on shapes that we love, lines from nature that we have paid attention to, and re-used wherever we find ourselves creating.
We love life and its curves and straights, and life loves us back.