“Being is round,” Gaston Bachelard deduces in one of my favorite books, The Poetics of Space.
Roundness represents completeness. It encompasses a whole.
Roundness is infinite.
It is the pattern of cities and microorganisms when unaffected by geographical or other obstacles and influences.
Roundness is the pupil, the portal to one’s soul.
Roundness are the elements of the female figure which induce the creation of life.
Roundness is the Earth that is spinning.
Roundness is the Sun.
Roundness is all things with a gravitational pull of their own.
Roundness is the water cycle, the seasons, and the life of a plant - from seed, to sun, to soil.
Roundness is a baby’s first breath and a father’s last.
Roundness is what we can see but we cannot explain, what we can approximate but we cannot build.
Roundness is divine perfection.
It is a gift to be able to see and experience it. However we can only be humbled in knowing that it is not we who have created it.
Roundness is perceived to be irrational since we are incapable of describing it precisely. We offer symbols in the form of numbers, words, and brushstrokes.
The Golden Ratio, pi, and the smile of the Mona Lisa each approach divinity yet remain limited to the dimensions to which we belong.
Artists, mathematicians, and philosophers alike yearn to express the inexpressible. Our limitations signify that our experience is part of a larger whole. We cannot know all that Roundness encompasses, but through the journey of becoming aware of its essence we can feel it’s embrace more intimately.
Gratitudes
My mother, flowers, and things that cause an involuntary, cheerful “aww!”.