RIVER OF JANUARY
A Response to the Idea of Beauty

Ouro Preto, Black Gold in Portuguese, is a stunning Colonial city in the Serra do Espinhaco mountains of Brazil. Its Baroque churches and sculptures are rich with gold, beautiful gold dug from Ouro Preto mines by the hands of slaves. Think of them, ten thousand slave-backs bent, as you run your hand over a statue, its beauty dazzling in the sunlight .

I was sent here to see beauty. Don't bother with Rio, everyone said, Rio crude and crowded. Rio de Janiero, River of January in Portuguese, with slums running down its hillsides like sewage. I was stunned by Ouro Preto's beauty, its dark history hardly detracting from its glory.

Later, in my Brazilian friend's kitchen, they told of hard-swept dirt floors and pride of home, among the tin shacks of Rio's slums. Think of this joy as you visit the sweltering interior.

And so it is, beauty contrasted within the same scenario. We speak of anorexic supermodels, and the age-worn beauty of laughter wrinkles. If we learn anything about beauty, we learn to look beyond. What is this beyond? Am I impressed with obvious beauty, but unwilling to look beyond to the pain, to injustices inflicted upon those who create? Am I willing to wrestle with the complexities in the beauty around me?

For beauty is nothing but complex. Many of Ouro Preto's marvels were created by Aleijadinho, Little Cripple in Portuguese. Aleijadinho, who sculpted with tools strapped to the stumps of his hands, as illness destroyed his body. His work illustrates subjects such as justice and mercy, condemnation and deliverance. The artist, himself caught in an unjust system, transformed his suffering into profound beauty.

"That which is striking and beautiful is not always good, but that which is good is always beautiful." - Ninon de L'Enclos.