beauty is not enough

Something i've been thinking about recently. Not in any rigorous enough way -- perhaps 'musing' would be a better word. But i've been thinking about how limited art becomes when artists -- especially Christian artists -- pursue lyrical beauty as their top priority, when they seek to aestheticise life by papering over the cracks and trying too hard to find redemption lurking in every dark corner. Maybe sometimes, ugly needs to be shown for exactly what it is.
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Next writing challenge - to write well about ugliness, without trivialising / sentimentalising it, yet without sinking into despair like so much contemporary art. And, if i manage that one, then i can start trying to write well about joy.
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