The sound of colors is so definite that it would be hard to find anyone who would express bright yellow with base notes, or dark lake with the treble.
Interpretation
Kandinsky suggests that colors elicit specific sounds, emphasizing the strong connection between visual art and auditory experiences.
In this quote, Wassily Kandinsky explores the profound relationship between color and sound, proposing that certain colors can evoke specific musical notes or qualities. He emphasizes that the vividness and emotional resonance of colors are so distinct that it would be almost inconceivable for someone to misassociate a bright color like yellow with low, base sounds or darker hues with higher treble notes, highlighting the unique language of art that transcends conventional sensory boundaries.
In practice
In a presentation about synesthesia, to illustrate how people perceive colors and sounds together.
The true work of art is born from the 'artist': a mysterious, enigmatic, and mystical creation. It detaches itself from him, it acquires an autonomous life, becomes a personality, an independent subject, animated with a spiritual breath, the living subject of a real existence of being.
The artist must have something to say, for mastery over form is not his goal but rather the adapting of form to its inner meaning.
With cold eyes and indifferent mind the spectators regard the work. Connoissers admire the "skill" (as one admires a tightrope walker), enjoy the "quality of painting" (as one enjoys a pasty). But hungry souls go hungry away. The vulgar herd stroll through the rooms and pronounce the pictures "nice" or "splendid." Those who could speak have said nothing, those who could hear have heard nothing.
The sound of colors is so definite that it would be hard to find anyone who would express bright yellow with bass notes or dark lake with treble.
The more abstract is form, the more clear and direct its appeal.
All methods are sacred if they are internally necessary. All methods are sins if they are not justified by internal necessity.
I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I'm lost in the music. Until I am the music--notes and chords, the melody and harmony. It hurts, but it's okay because when I'm the music, I'm not me. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty.
If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph: THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD WAS MUSIC
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
Ah, music, sacred tongue of God! I hear thee calling and I come.
Melody and harmony are like lines and colors in pictures. A simple linear picture may be completely beautiful; the introduction of color may make it vague and insignificant. Yet color may, by combination with lines, create great pictures, so long as it does not smother and destroy their value.
Sometimes I wish that just solving the plot problems was enough. And then elves would go and do all the actual work moving the words around.
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