Longing for the Days When Beauty Had a Soul

Gone Are the Days When Beauty Had a Name – Now We Live in the Empire of the Empty...

I often find myself longing for the days when beauty wasn’t an afterthought - a time when the world was crafted with devotion - when every building, every painting, every piece of clothing whispered the care of its maker. Now, we live in an age of sterility: cold glass boxes for architecture, soulless "minimalist" interiors, and art that demands no skill, only pretension. A single line on a canvas or a chaotic splash of color is hailed as genius, while the masters of the past - Caravaggio, Michelangelo, Bernini - must be crying at what we’ve traded for "progress."

Think of the Gothic cathedrals, their intricate spirals reaching for the heavens, every inch of the stone carved with stories and devotion. The lampposts of old cities, twisting like iron vines, casting delicate shadows on cobblestone streets. The grand train stations of the 19th century, where travelers were greeted not by sterile fluorescent halls, but by arched marble ceilings that framed the romance of travel and whispered of adventure. Even ordinary homes had warmth - crown moldings, hand-carved wood, fireplaces that felt like the heart of a room, entrances to stories rather than slabs of particle board. Now ? Blank walls, flat-pack furniture, and buildings so generic they could be hospitals or offices or prisons..

Now, so much feels… empty . Minimalism has stripped away the details that once gave objects personality. Art is reduced to concepts, often devoid of the skill and passion that once defined it. Cinema, too, has lost its grandeur. The golden age gave us films drenched in shadow and light, costumes that were art, sets built by hand. Now, green screens replace craftsmanship, and every blockbuster looks like the same glossy, weightless CGI slurry. Film sets are built in pixels, not plaster; Fashion ? Mass-produced, disposable, stripped of the drapery and drama that once made it wearable art. It now prioritizes speed over craftsmanship. I miss the weight of the real, the imperfections that made things human.

We’ve traded soul for convenience, beauty for efficiency. The world feels emptier for it. I miss the days when artists labored , when architects dared , when even the smallest object -a teacup, a streetlamp - felt alive with intention. Today’s aesthetic is a museum of the mundane, and I’m tired of living in it. I don’t hate modernity. But I mourn what we’ve lost along the way - the patience, the attention to detail, the artistry, the sense that beauty was worth the effort. Maybe one day, we’ll remember that a world without ornament, without soul, is a world that’s easier to forget.

Bring back the ornament. Bring back the madness. Bring back the art that demands to be felt. What are your thoughts? Do we love minimalism or sterility in every aspect of our lives or do we all long for the time when there was depth, poetry, a story, love, emotions and madness? I 'd love it if you share your thoughts with me.