No Need to Emphasize the Ugly

Patrick Kurp of Anecdotal Evidence writes about meeting a painter, beauty and ugliness in this brief entry:
Last week I met a painter in New Hampshire who had set up his easel beside a river, though his back faced the water and he was painting the row of maples that paralleled the nearby road. It was mid-morning on a clear autumn day. The yellow leaves, when I looked at them more carefully, were not merely yellow but white and green and almost silver as they shimmered in the breeze. “I’m painting light, really,” he said. His canvas was small, about the size and shape of a license plate, and he worked in oils. The trunk of the closest maple was on the right side of the canvas. The middle was a muted patchwork of yellow, white, green and pale yellow-gray simulating silver but not at all metallic. In isolation this central part of the painting looked like an abstraction or the birth of a galaxy…
For years he had worked for a marketing firm, until he retired early and started painting fulltime. “I hate ugliness. It exists, but I hate art that celebrates it….There’s really no need to emphasize the ugly, is there?”
I too am fascinated by light and its role in scenes and paintings.  For instance, this painting by Fairfield Porter, titled Armchair on A Porch, is more about the light than the chair.screen-shot-2016-10-19-at-8-19-01-am
The title of Kurp’s article refers to an essay he read, Ideas of Ugly.   (With apologies to New Jersey family and friends): 
“. . . ultimate ugly is in some way global and oppressive; it doesn’t simply repeat a single element, but has a quality of infinite variation without change that lays a weight on the heart. The novels of Theodore Dreiser, Marxist political rhetoric, the landscape of northern New Jersey, souvenir shops in airports—these have the special qualities of an ugly which is at once settled into itself, varied in its particulars, yet bound to go on and on interminably.”
So here is what I consider an example of ugly:
Quattro Stagioni: Autumno by Cy Twombly
And beauty:
Golden Autumn by Ilya Ostroukhov

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