Finding Beauty in the Mundane, Boring, and Trivial, according to Degas.

The Norton Simon displays rows of dimly lit canvases down its corridors.

Amongst the paintings, you’ll find a few handwoven embroideries and bronze statues of the female physique.

In a way, each piece of art competes for your attention, similar to the bindings of books or vinyls in milk crates. If you’re museum-ing correctly, hopefully one piece out of the hundreds seduces you.

“Stay awhile longer,” it says.

“The Laundress” by Edgar Degas (1870) reeled me in; before releasing me back, it made an impression on me. It’s now why I write the following.

For context, let me describe the painting. On canvas the size of a postcard, Degas paints a lady dressed in cream linens pressing an iron into white fabrics laid upon a table. Between its colors, size, and soft brushstrokes, the whole sensory experience can be described with the word ‘delicate.’ Surrounded by canvases much larger—like common ones found in houses—leads me to assume that it’s often overlooked.

For this reason, perhaps, it’s why I stayed with it a second longer—almost as if not to neglect it.

What made it appeal to me even more was the smaller-sized placard to its right. An art critic who witnessed Degas paint elaborates on how he had an obsession with two things:

Washerwomen and ballet dancers.

The critic, in a way I found poetic, furthered their own thoughts.

The critic writes:

“He has fallen in love with modern life, and out of all the subjects in modern life he has chosen washerwomen and ballet dancers. When you come to think of it, it’s not a bad choice. It’s a world of pink and white, of female flesh in lawn and gauze… speaking their language and explaining the technicalities of the different movements in pressing and ironing.”

Leading up to the 20th century, subjects for paintings were mainly landscapes, people in courtyards, portraits of gods, saints, and royalty, and plants—for Degas, these didn’t have the same pull as washerwomen and ballet dancers.

What other mundane subjects can you find inspiration in?

A Nice Cup of Tea

While the two lived a generation apart, Degas’ work reminded me of Orwell. No, not for his novels 1984 and Animal Farm. Neither of these is mundane, boring, or trivial; they’re fictional works that shed light on negative global happenings (depending on which side you’re on) and how their effects around corruption and mass surveillance can have much greater impact.

In about 1,300 words, Orwell wrote A Nice Cup of Tea.

One of the world’s most notable authors made time to write how he felt was the best way to brew the perfect cup of tea.

He shares how you can brew the perfect cup in 10 steps, which tea to use and which not to use, his opinion on those who need sweetener for their tea, whether the milk goes in first or last, and a reminder not to use bags.

His essay is hyper-detailed, especially for a process that takes a maximum of three steps: boil water, steep tea, remove bag.

Do you see what I’m getting at here?

Orwell—like Degas with washerwomen and ballet dancers—found something on this earth to find important. While you and I drink coffee daily and do laundry on the weekend, like grown adults, these words and comparisons are a reminder that there’s a world out there beyond the algorithms. A reminder that inspiration can be found anywhere so long as we look up and see where we’re heading.

From folks doing laundry to making a cup of tea—it’s all material.

—George