Does Beauty Matter in Difficult Times?

Jess Castellote

As the director of an art museum in a society where hardship is a daily reality, I often ask myself: what do we really have to offer? Are we simply catering to the cultural tastes of a privileged few, detached from the struggles of ordinary people? Or does art—and beauty in particular—have something meaningful to give to everyone, regardless of their circumstances? I believe it does. Beauty has a unique way of cutting across barriers, whether they’re social, economic, or cultural. Even in the toughest times, it can offer moments of hope, connection, and meaning. So, in a world where survival often feels like the priority, I find myself wondering: what is the value of beauty? what role can beauty play in helping us live, not just get by?

There’s a moment in Dostoevsky’s The Idiot when Ippolit asks Prince Myshkin whether he really said, “Beauty will save the world.” That line has stayed with me because it captures something profound: the idea that beauty has the power to elevate us, even in a troubled and broken world. For Dostoevsky, beauty isn’t just about appearances—it’s about revealing something deeper. It offers a glimpse of truth and goodness, drawing us toward what truly matters. Of course, in today’s world, that can feel like a hard sell. Many pragmatists dismiss the idea as idealistic, arguing that beauty doesn’t solve real-world problems like poverty or injustice. But I think that view misses something crucial. Beauty has a way of stirring something in us, a longing for what is good and true. An encounter with beauty—be it in art, nature, or everyday life—can lift us out of despair and negativity, connecting us to a sense of hope and wonder that feels rare in difficult times. John Paul II expressed this beautifully in his Letter to Artists. He described beauty as a force that inspires, heals, and uplifts. For him, it wasn’t just about aesthetics; it was about leading people to a sense of the sacred and helping them rediscover the dignity of life. Like Dostoevsky, he believed beauty could offer a kind of antidote to the fragmentation and despair that often characterize modern life.

This perspective feels particularly relevant in Nigeria, where so many people face daily struggles just to survive. At first glance, beauty might seem like a luxury in this context—something only the wealthy can afford, while the rest are busy struggling to make it to the end of the month. But history tells us otherwise. Across cultures and time, people have pursued beauty not as an indulgence but as a necessity. From cave paintings to grand European cathedrals, intricate Yoruba textiles to the patterns of Islamic art and the subtle serenity and beauty of Japanese gardens, the search for beauty has always been about more than decoration. It’s about meaning, connection, and a shared sense of humanity. Even in the most challenging circumstances, beauty has a way of shining through. In Nigeria’s underserved communities, you’ll find vibrant traditional clothing, joyful music, and intricate art that reflect resilience and hope. These aren’t just expressions of creativity; they’re acts of defiance against despair. They remind us that life is about more than just survival—it’s about celebrating the things that make us human. It reveals how things that are not immediately utilitarian—those that serve no direct, material function—can still hold great value. Take, for example, the northern embroidery or Yoruba Aṣọ-Òkè fabrics. These aren’t necessities for daily life. they go far beyond practical utility. They are expressions of identity and pride. Similarly, small acts of beautification—like arranging flowers, decorating a space, or singing a song—can bring joy and meaning to everyday life. They remind us that, even in hardship, there’s room for dignity and grace.

Some will ask whether beauty can have this impact also in the middle of poverty, suffering and hardships? My answer is clear. I am convinced that beauty can be a profound source of relief and even transcendence amid poverty, suffering, loneliness and hardship. In fact, it’s often in these very situations that beauty’s impact becomes most powerful, offering hope, optimism, and a reminder of our shared humanity. In times of struggle, beauty can serve as a light in the darkness. A small moment of beauty—a flower blooming by the roadside, a child’s laughter, the melody of a song in a church—can offer a glimmer of something beyond immediate suffering. These moments remind people that, despite their circumstances, life contains goodness, dignity, and worth. For many, these glimpses of beauty can feel like touches of grace, helping to affirm that there is a greater reality beyond the visible challenges. In some of the world’s most impoverished places, communities still find ways to create and celebrate beauty. Whether through vibrant traditional clothing, lively dance, music, or even the decorative elements of humble homes, people often bring beauty into their surroundings as a form of resistance against despair. It reflects a belief in the inherent worth of life, and for many, it is a way to maintain dignity and faith, showing that hardship doesn’t define one’s inner value. For those in hardship, beauty can be a way of experiencing something uplifting and pure, something that hints at God’s presence and the possibility of hope and renewal. So yes, beauty can emerge, even shine, in poverty and suffering. 

Moments of beauty often lead us to something deeper. They can awaken a sense of awe, gratitude, and wonder, connecting us to something greater than ourselves. Whether it’s the sight of a flower blooming by the roadside or the sound of a heartfelt melody, these experiences remind us that life is still full of goodness and worth. In these moments, beauty can awaken us to the presence of something greater than ourselves, hinting at a deeper order and purpose in the world. Some pragmatists might argue that focusing on beauty in a society with pressing issues is escapist or impractical, unable to address urgent issues like poverty, inequality, or systemic injustice. They argue that real-world problems require tangible solutions: economic opportunities, accessible healthcare, social reform, education and good infrastructures. But that perspective overlooks the positive impact beauty can have on individuals and communities. Public art, community gardens, and beautified spaces can foster pride and optimism, helping people envision a better future. Everyday beauty enriches our lives in simple yet profound ways. Arranging flowers on a table, decorating a room, or cooking a meal with care may seem mundane, but these small acts of creativity and attention add joy and meaning to life. They remind us that human life is about more than survival—it’s about flourishing. To them, the pursuit of beauty can feel like an indulgence or a form of escapism that diverts resources and attention from immediate needs. Music is another powerful example: a song playing in the background, a live performance, or a family member singing a popular song can bring people together, relieve stress, and elevate simple moments into truly human experiences. 

G.K. Chesterton put it perfectly when he wrote, “The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder.” In other words, beauty isn’t something we have to go looking for—it’s already here, waiting to be noticed. And in noticing it, we find reasons to hope, to connect, and to keep going. In Nigerian society—or anywhere hardship is common—beauty can offer a powerful antidote to negativity and despair. It’s not about ignoring suffering but about affirming that life is worth living, even in the midst of struggle. Beauty reminds us of our shared humanity and gives us the courage to imagine a better world. Ultimately, beauty isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. It nourishes the soul, lifts the spirit, and inspires us to build lives that are not just about getting by but about truly flourishing. Offering beauty is one way to honour human dignity and create a society where joy, meaning, and growth have room to thrive, even when it is very hard to get enough money to reach the end of the month.

• Dr Castellote is the Director. Yemisi Shyllon Museum of Art,  Pan-Atlantic University