Everything passes, and what remains of former times, what remains of life, is the spiritual. In everything we do, the claim of the Absolute is unchanging.
Paul KleeRead
To give emphasis only to beauty makes me think of a mathematics that deals with positive numbers only.
Interpretation
The quote suggests that focusing solely on beauty is an incomplete understanding, akin to only considering positive numbers in mathematics.
Paul Klee's quote highlights the importance of a holistic view of art and aesthetics. He uses the analogy of mathematics, where limiting oneself to only positive numbers would yield a partial understanding of the subject. This implies that true appreciation of art involves recognizing complexity and depth, including elements that may not be conventionally beautiful or positive.
In practice
In a discussion about art, I might use this quote to emphasize the importance of seeing beyond surface beauty.
Everything passes, and what remains of former times, what remains of life, is the spiritual. In everything we do, the claim of the Absolute is unchanging.
The painter should not paint what he sees, but what will be seen.
To emphasize only the beautiful seems to me to be like a mathematical system that only concerns itself with positive numbers.
You adapt yourself to the contents of the paintbox.
It is a great difficulty and a great necessity to have to start with the smallest.
All art is a memory of age-old things, dark things, whose fragments live on in the artist.
There is no more difficult art to acquire than the art of observation, and for some men it is quite as difficult to record an observation in brief and plain language.
I don't want you to write about what you know, because you don't know anything. I don't want to hear about your boyfriend or your grandma... I'm getting a little tired of 'my life story as fiction'. Please don't tell me about your little life - is there nothing larger? More important?
Music is part of the life of fashion, too.
On a morning from a Bogart movie, in a country where they turn back time. You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre, contemplating a crime. She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a watercolor in the rain. Don't bother asking for explanations, she'll just tell you that she came in the year of the cat.
My small torrent of words dissipated into an elaborate sense of expanding and receding. It was my entrance into the radiance of imagination. This process was especially magnified within the fevers of influenza, measles, chickenpox, and mumps. I got them all and with each I was privileged with a new level of awareness. Lying deep within myself, the symmetry of a snowflake spinning above me, intensifying through my lids, I seized a most worthy souvenir, a shard of heavenβs kaleidoscope.
I can't read novels while I'm writing a novel, because somebody's voice creeps in.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.