

It is a weird number that was discovered already by the ancient Greeks. Originally this was called the divine ratio. The volcanoes we like are all fairly steep mountains.
Tsunami hokusai goldenratio skin#
Skin tone and texture is relevant in people’s perception of beauty. An average human face has beauty but has lost all character, perhaps because it lacks those minor, surprising asymmetries. It adds character to symmetry – as long as the deviations do not dominate. The previous post mentioned that at close view, Fuji is far from perfect. Different people enjoy very different music, but we can agree that the waving melody of Greensleeves and the lightfootedness of Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik have beauty. But those pieces are much more affected by personal preferences. Paintings can have great visual impact without beauty (Picasso’s Guernica comes to mind). Much of the music each of us enjoys cannot be called ‘beautiful’. But beauty can be bland and appreciation does not need beauty. Music is another: it can leave a lasting impression of beauty and harmony. Colour is one: lava is ugly in the light of day (really!) but it becomes a wonder at night when the lava turns into a light show worthy of Christmas. (Of course, for the partner it can be a curse to be seen as a trophy and asset, rather than being admired for talent!) This transfer of beauty applies to both people and volcanoes – any landscape looks better with a stratovolcano in it, just like that volcano looks better with its surroundings. A beautiful partner is more than a trophy: it is an asset which adds value. Studies have shown that people have more favourable impressions of people who have attractive partners – even if those persons themselves do not satisfy typical definitions of beauty. In others the focus is elsewhere, with Fuji in the background to give meaning to a human land. In some of the images of Hokusai’s 36 Views of Fuji, the mountain itself is the focus, always showing a different but domineering aspect. A landscape can be shown from many different points of view. Like a perfect and unblemished face looks artificial and made up, a perfect landscape looks boring. There should also be an element of surprise. Both themes strive for proportion, a degree of symmetry, and for harmony. A perfect Japanese landscape differs from a German one (the former has space, the latter probably has a forest in it somewhere). But a universal description of the shape of a perfect face does not exist: it varies with time, race and culture.

Nowadays, plastic surgery uses a set of linear and angular parameters to beautify a face. Leonardo da Vinci described beauty as a combination of symmetry and proportion. Some things remain: symmetry and skin suppleness survive while the ideal shape changes. Both use standards, but the standards have changed. What was a beautiful face for a renaissance painter would not pass muster in the age of Hollywood. Old paintings show how our perception of beauty has changed. Patience: they quickly beautify over the first months of life, and keep improving until puberty hits and life begins for real. In fact, dare I say it, they can at first be quite ugly. But a new baby does not live up to any standard of beauty. A new-born baby is the most beautiful thing on earth – if you are the parent. Does this give a way to define what a perfect volcano should look like?īeauty is in the eye of the beholder, as the expression says. Like Mount Fuji, they tend to be fairly steep cones, isolated with a clear contrast to the rest of the landscape, and symmetric. The volcanoes that were proposed in the previous discussion have things in common. Who is the judge in the Volcano World beauty contest? Or can we solve the question here, and define beauty in a way that leaves one clear winner? Our definitive i- cone-oclast? Beauty can be a rather vague term, and people can disagree with each other as to the best volcanic beauty. After the post on Mount Fuji, there was a discussion on which was the most beautiful volcano.
