“Why should you think that beauty, which is the most precious thing in the world, lies like a stone on the beach for the careless passer-by to pick up idly? Beauty is something wonderful and strange that the artist fashions out of the chaos of the world in the torment of his soul. And when he has made it, it is not given to all to know it. To recognize it you must repeat the adventure of the artist. It is a melody that he sings to you, and to hear it again in your own heart you want knowledge and sensitiveness and imagination.”
Brilliant quote from The Moon and Sixpence, one of the last books I remember reading that I was truly sad when finishing. I wish there were hundreds more of these types of books. Beauty cannot be separated from the beholder, in this case the creator. Beauty is augmented by the lens, by that frame, by the viewer. It is full of chaos and torment, seemingly negative things. It is the construct of these elements into some useful thing that is indeed beautiful.