Permanence in an Ever-Changing World
Man Holding a Shrine Containing an Image of Osiris (5th-4th Century BC) from The Metropolitan Museum of Art
During Spring Break, I took a weekend trip to New York City, where I had the pleasure of admiring some of the pieces within The Metropolitan Museum of Art. As I wandered through the numerous mummies, sarcophagi, and a full-out reconstructed Egyptian temple, I started to wonder: what happened to permanence in our modern world?
There is something that is special about a statue or building knowing that it is hundreds, let alone thousands, of years old. Perhaps it is the fact that when we look at our own world we see impermanence staring back. It seems almost common that we hear of a building being renovated, destroyed, or collapsed. Our roads crumb and turn to dust, requiring constant maintenance. Companies start, companies grow, and companies hit bankruptcy. We buy things off whims and just because we can. We value impermanence in our lives as a sign of wealth, rather than give value to the things that will last forever.
In the grand scale of human history, this transformation came at a moment's notice. Three thousand years ago, ancient Egyptians made pyramids out of sandstone and statues out of graywacke that have lasted the test of time. Two thousand years ago, Romans built near-impervious streets using a form of concrete and monuments out of marble that are now enshrined in museums around the world. The Aztec and Mayan civilizations constructed temples and cities out of stone that, even after being buried for hundreds of years, are still standing. Not only are we failing to build in a way that is sustainable, but we are also not building in a way that will stay with us. We create just to last the decade, rather than to last a lifetime.
Recently, I have been reading Ovid’s Metamorphosis, reflecting how change and permanence have evolved over time. To me, the most important line comes in the last paragraph of the last book: “Here I end my work, which neither Jupiter’s rage, nor fire, nor sword, nor gnawing time can ever wipe away.” In an ironic statement, Ovid is confident in his own immortality, even in the face of change. He embodies in this last section what is missing from modern society: purpose. Ovid wrote his Metamorphosis not only as an epic but also as a piece specifically designed to supersede time and place, rather than to just make a living.
When we do something, do we act with the purpose to be permanent, or just to last the next day, week, month, or even year? The Egyptians, Romans, and Mesoamerican civilizations of long ago dealt with permanence as a necessity, not having the resources to make constant repairs, yet when we have the chance to make an impact for the rest of time we choose not to out of apathy. When we create art of any kind, we should aim for it to be admired for years to come rather than just shoved out. When writing a book, authors should want their work to be respected for generations, not just chalked up to be something only to be read in airports and on beaches. When building, architects should aim for the building to be a monument to the times. This isn’t to say that all artists aren’t creating in a permanent way, as many are. But rather all too many authors, for instance, create book after book with the same plot not to produce masterful pieces of literature but to line their own pockets off the boredom of readers without producing anything of merit (with the same going for painters, architects, and artists in general). If we act with the purpose to last forever, it makes us think about the final product; if it is truly representative of our own talents and if it is worthy of fending off worthlessness. We should aim for greatness, in both our work and our longevity, rather than settling for mediocrity, which we have shamelessly fallen into.
The fact that permanence is so deeply rooted in history shows that humans want to be remembered, to live beyond our years. When we deny that part of ourselves for profit, we deny something that brings that extra human touch to make something truly beautiful. Whether it is emotion or creativity or drama or inspiration, when we churn something out purely for a profit it lacks certain qualities. In order to make the world, and our own lives, more beautiful, we need to look beyond the present. We need to be permanent.