All in the name.

The Rachmaninoff Theory is how I see.
There is something so beautiful about the way an old photograph looks. The aesthetic doesn't necessarily come from the composition, or the image itself. But, rather, that there is a beauty that exists in the mere existence of it's being. The idea that this image holds a memory that was so perfect, or perhaps imperfect, that it had to be captured. A moment that was unknowingly bound to be sealed to a material that would over time self destruct and manipulate itself into something as perfect, or imperfect, as the moment it once was. The romance that I find in this idea is that the image becomes a memory, and with every viewer, that memory changes and becomes faded with light and wear. Over the years it compiles layer after layer that it bursts into a symphony. This is where I got the idea for The Rachmaninoff Theory. Sergei Rachmaninoff, a Russian composer was a miserable and dark man, his music cried of the times and of everything that he didn't know how to say. It is mournful and dark like the maker but it drips with the most uncontrollable beauty. Beauty in the sadness and beauty in the madness that a collection of notes can echo a feeling so perfectly and also beauty in the pure joy of beauty. This contrast exists in so many things; in music, in art, writing, fashion, design, in an old photograph, or a moment.
A collection of things from the eye of a beholder.