“Sad Cactus”

The lush foliage, floating candles, and dreamy music are mesmerizing. Despite this exquisite ambience for the show - my thoughts are absorbed with the 20’ tall ‘asparagus’ in the next room.

Not actually an asparagus – but a Century Plant – preparing to bloom. I reflect on Victoria Williams’ oddly inspiring song the “Century Tree” – named for its rare, once-in-a-lifetime blossom. After decades of low, prickly, growth, an asparagus-like spike unpredictably shoots up and blooms. The spectacular flourish grows so large and fast that the exhausted plant soon dies. This humble cactus – resembling a massive aloe – expends all its strength on a final, energetic burst of beauty. In her song, Victoria Williams celebrates a similar capacity in people to unexpectedly reveal surprising strength and beauty.

My ruminations turn to aesthetics while ensconced in the luxuriant beauty of South Bend’s Botanical Gardens, rapt with the hypnotic tunes of the band, ‘Sad Cactus’. For a small donation, this show provides an aesthetic experience rivaling any arena laser light concert. The verdant stage and ethereal sounds contrast with the wearied, time-worn building which shelters us. This aging structure quietly testifies to a trite though timeless wisdom: “True beauty lies within”.

The minimalist structure of the greenhouse obscures its role in providing this multi-sensuous, aesthetic experience. Broken windows and peeling paint underscore its humble function - to safeguard the botanical beauty it harbors. No doubt it has offered similar refuge, solace, and inspiration to its non-botanical patrons over the years. Alas, dutifully serving its humble purpose will not protect it from destruction.

The uncritical readiness to tear it down assaults the need all communities have for beauty and special spaces (and don’t believe that demolition is not the inevitable outcome of a ’seasonal closure’). With their highest expressions of purpose and meaning, civilizations have always created aesthetically pleasing public spaces to nurture their spirits. Why do we apply so little effort to sustain what we already have in place?

If we valued aesthetics, our public officials would not so casually acquiesce to the simplistic, short-sighted ‘remedies’ offered to address the financial issues, such as heating costs, that ostensibly threaten the operations of the Botanical Gardens. For example, have we explored creative solutions such as utilizing corn-burning furnaces which are increasingly improving their capacity as a clean and inexpensive source of heat? We could take pride in saving costs, while boasting a conservatory heated by local, renewable energy supplies. Surely we could identify creative methods to generate income? Such an alluring venue should hold strong appeal to local musicians and their fans. A “Winter Garden Walk/Art Fair” could offer visual artists an outlet while providing the rest of us with a distinctive diversion from our long winters. 

It is troubling that creative alternatives to closure have not been assiduously explored by local officials. But such neglect is not surprising given the diminished importance ascribed to aesthetics in the last half century – an historically aberrant trend. Throughout history, the value of aesthetics has been a central virtue - normative for most civilizations. 

The Greeks set the tone. Plato argued that aspiring to ideals of “the Beautiful” – along with Truth & Goodness - offers a means for rising to higher realms. He found these ideals reflected in the unity, proportion and harmony of our aesthetic experiences in the world. Socrates saw Beauty as coincident with the Good - utility being a necessary condition of both. Since‘gratification of one’s senses’ rated as a utilitarian function – the reality of ‘Beauty’ was subjective – based on one’s direct, sensuous experience. Aristotle, on the other hand, set Beauty above both the useful and the necessary. He sought – through ‘scientific’ analysis – a means to identify common and measurable principles inherent in aesthetics. For him, the Good must be dynamic while the Beautiful can be motionless - bestowing pleasure unaccompanied by lust or desire. And that was just the Greeks. 

Philosophy has long taken aesthetics seriously – finding in beauty a means of self-assurance and higher truth. Through the 19th century, an insistent attitude remained that one must turn to art to know what ‘the world really is‘. Some argued that the beautiful happens when the absolute makes itself known to the senses. Others denied the existence of an objective aesthetic - but allowed that true aesthetic value could be subjectively experienced in the contemplation of beauty, be it in art or nature. In other words, real beauty is determined between subject and object. Throughout the centuries – a common theme has been whether a higher truth/beauty was to be found in nature or art. There is comfort in knowing that my evening with ‘Sad Cactus’ would satisfy both camps.

The value of aesthetics in architecture is clearly evident in older public buildings. Our forebears took pride in the form and quality of these buildings. They were designed to uplift the spirit and built to last. Entrusting these legacies to us, their quality and beauty assured that – as stewards – we would provide the care needed to pass these legacies forward – connecting communities in time as well as space. To measure such cost-benefits on an annual budget cycle would be ludicrous. 

At first glance, the ragged, scarred botanical gardens may not appear to measure up to the aesthetics of other public buildings. But the particular virtue of this tired, simple building may be more oblique. For here, thousands of miles from its native desert, we can witness the beautiful swan song of the Century Tree. Surely this kind of beauty – augmented by the mystery and finality of its bloom - offers an aesthetic worthy of the ancient philosophers’ ruminations.

No one knows what spurs the Century Plant to abruptly blossom - but I suspect a cause for the one flowering in the next room. I believe it chose this time, in this place, to lodge a lonely but brilliant counterpoint. As this ‘sad cactus’ bursts forth, it makes one last plea - or perhaps a defiant wail - that beauty has value and will endure. I can only hope that we detect its muted cry over the bulldozer clamoring at its door.