When speaking of beauty, the conversation inevitably turns to money.
Yet as long as one avoids this reality, one cannot participate in the dialogue about beauty.
The moment one says “within my means,” beauty vanishes from that arena.
I want it, even if it means overextending myself.
I still want to obtain it.
That impulse alone is the only truth.
The dialogue with that single piece acquired through such sacrifice.
Only the accumulation of experiences where one devotes oneself entirely to that one piece
cultivates “an eye for beauty.”
Nice, I want it, amazing.
But it’s too expensive, so it’s impossible for me, haha.
—These are words of indifference and insult.
There is the bewilderment of “paying this price for such a thing,”
and there is the amazement of “obtaining this for this price.”
Fundamentally, the latter is the proper response to encountering beauty.
The world of one million, ten million, one hundred million.
This is the natural realm where beauty exists.
Size, signature, condition, provenance…
Prices fluctuate based on added value and competition.
Yet the power of beauty itself remains unchanged.
Artists attempt to renew this “existing beauty.”
They challenge history with their works, seeking to rewrite the map of value.
I myself see the manifestation of beauty in antique art.
It appears vividly before my eyes.
Neither philosophy nor history.
Simply, a crystallization of beauty exists there.
And I tremble.
This is a sensation difficult for contemporary artists to achieve.
No matter how sophisticated the philosophy or attractive the way of life,
without that “trembling” at its core, it is not beauty for me.
To truly see beauty, one must stand on the same dimension of sensibility.
To reach that dimension, one must possess it.
Only through possession does beauty become “real experience.”
There are realms that criticism cannot reach.
Therefore, to buy beauty is—to stake one’s life on it.
