A piece of music like this evokes contrasting emotions. Is this sad, hopeful, strong? It’s all of those things. And that is what makes it a genuine piece of art. James Joyce had a formula for the aesthetic. The beautiful in art is not a beauty that moves you to possess it. That he calls pornography. Nor is it beauty that moves you to criticize or comment on it’s meaning… that he calls the didactic function of art. But when the artist finds a fortunate rhythm, the pieces of the work, whether it is music or painting or writing, all relate to each other perfectly, and the result is what Joyce called an Epiphany, after the Catholic religious festival. It is a sudden apprehension of a transparent realm of truth.