Within each artist there reside two souls. The first is the naked persona, the character and tribal actor of whatever rank and reputation. This is the face and figure you accost and respond to: the creature of hunger and urges, the striving, surviving being, the rejoicing voice or the doleful visage, the proud or humble citizen of this party, an active member of that club, a husband, a wife, parent, sibling, friend. There is little to differentiate this aspect of the artist from another human; you would be hard put to single-out the artists from the throng of a crowded beach.
Yet among any collection of humans and residing within the artists there, is a second set of souls. Often cloaked and recondite, shielded and sheltered, harbored and nurtured, these are the creative essences, the muse-spirits that are stirred in the presence of beauty or invoked by the manifold names of art. They are borne across the world as if on currents of grace. These souls have as their mandate to find, capture, and render beauty to form, guarding it from time and blindness: they are as curators of things perfect; they are the wispy ranks of the true faithful, finding, framing and putting on display for all to see the clues to the divine, the evidence of God. — William Hecht