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I was watching Antiques Roadshow recently, a program I enjoy because it brings forward objects of beauty, history, and surprise. A young woman presented a striking artwork made of small ceramic tiles. She explained she had found it in the attic of the house she had bought. Without knowing its background, she admitted, “I don’t like it because it’s not my type. But if there’s a history behind it and it’s worth something, then I’ll like it.”

Her words stayed with me. To my eyes, the piece was already beautiful and unique full of character and craft. Later, I discovered the artist’s name: Ron Hitchins, a British artist known for his bold use of ceramic tile panels. The work had a clear voice of its own, even before the expert revealed its story.

And yet, for the owner, its value depended entirely on what the expert would say. After hearing the curator’s explanation and learning the piece was worth around £800, she responded with sincerity: “I’ll try to like it now.”

This moment made me reflect on the many ways people relate to art. For some, beauty lies in the story, the history, or the monetary worth. For others, the value of a work is immediate and independent of any external validation. One person sees a decoration or an asset; another sees creativity, soul, and wonder.

Neither response is entirely “wrong.” We all carry different ways of measuring worth, often shaped by culture, upbringing, or personal taste. Yet what struck me most was how easy it is to overlook art’s inherent richness until it is sanctioned by an expert or attached to a price tag.

True appreciation, however, asks us to look deeper. Art has the power to move us, even if it comes from an unknown hand or sits forgotten in an attic. Its beauty does not increase with market value; rather, it exists in the act of seeing, in the willingness to let ourselves be touched by form, colour, or imagination.

Perhaps the challenge, and the gift, is to practice noticing beauty before it is named, measured, or sold. That is where real connection begins.