From an aesthetic perspective, I think the quality I appreciate the most in art, or literature, even in good journalism, is scope. The Google-map-like feeling you get as you zoom all the way out or go crashing in to a lanscape or a story, that combination of elation and terror you feel looking out of an airplane window.
So, two pieces of work that evoke that:
Michael Bell Smith’s Some Houses Have Pools
Alan Weisman’s The World Without Us (Which I haven’t read but very much want to after reading the review.