During the course of my life, I sometimes search for dissonance. Consonances are surely beautiful. To drink a good white wine in a sunlit room on a late spring afternoon is an epitome of consonance. On the other hand, disagreeing can be also glorify the soul, whether it is with people, food, music, or painting.
Sometimes, the dissonant experience visits us in a subtle form. take the paintings by Francis Bacon (1909-1992), for example. His paintings makes the onlooker uneasy, as if something is wrong with the painting, or the world, or, more seriously, with ourselves. It is as if elements of rage of disagreement is diluted, and sprinkled all over the place, so that the dissonance in distribution becomes something akin to love.
Self Portrait by Francis Bacon.