EPTA more concrete example can be expressed in peeling a sticker. One can remove a sticky sticker from a surface by peeling. I am talking about the kinds that are frustratingly delicate and break off before you can cleanly remove the whole piece. It might require an "art" or skill to remove this sticker without leaving a residue. The result was undependable, and the whole process troublesome. However, by applying an elegant solution, ie. using the chemical properties of some strong solvent like acetone, one could reliably and quickly remove any sticker residue from the surface. Clearly, elegance was superior to art. I find great comfort in absoluteness and black and white distinctions.
I maintained this reservation for quite a long time. I snubbed most art forms - paintings, music, videos, pictures, sculptures, etc. In a way, it is quite understandable. Much of "modern" art is total garbage, as evidenced by stories of stupidly simple colour arrangements on a canvas being sold for millions of dollars. I saw grafitti on walls, left by worthless hoodlums defacing valuable property, in the name of "art". Certain forms of popular music nowadays, namely rap and hip hop styles, are just irritating gangsters bragging about their illegal exploits and short-sighted lifestyles. I know I chose some specific examples that exemplify a taste on the extreme side of the spectrum, and I'll get back to that later.
However, as I was exposed to more and more of the real world, I finally realized the world was not as elegant as I had envisioned. There was no magical solution that you could spray to remove your pee stains around your toilet bowl. The only way to get it done was to get down and dirty with a scrubber and soap. How could I have been living all these years and not have realized how ugly the world was? I can wholly understand the sentiments of that feather haired guy in Bleach and his obsession with beauty - the world is ugly.
So I try escape back into my dream world where elegance is possible. But inevitably I had to reconcile my preconceived notions to properly cope with reality. Slowly I was forced to accept that there was indeed merit to art, that the world could not be run mechanically. One relevant medium is writing as an art form. I often find words are usually unable to express my true thoughts and understandings. Intuition locked within the mind is not so easily expressed externally by a artefactual mechanism of written or spoken language. Like in the book Chrysalids we read in grade 9 English class, a form of telekinesis described as "thought shapes" would be so much more convenient. Unfortunately, again it is all fantasy and we are limited to rely on our art skills.
Another medium I have newly embraced is music. Granted, everyone has their own tastes of genres. A lot of mainstream music these days is popular purely from peer pressure and influence of bandwagoning. I find the most beauty in music that evokes deep emotion. How interesting that a pattern of wavelengths of air in various frequencies can have such a moving impact on our psyche.
I suppose the most surprising revelation is how long it actually took me to accept the fact the world is so inelegant. I managed to turn a blind eye to effort, stamina, and skill, ignoring art, in perpetual search of the calculated elegance where it existed. I'd still rather delude myself living in my imagination than face the troublesome reality.
