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 emphasize only the beautiful seems to me to be like a mathematical system that only concerns itself with positive numbers.
Interpretation
The quote suggests that focusing solely on beauty is incomplete, similar to how a mathematical system that ignores negative numbers lacks depth.
Paul Klee's quote reflects on the idea that an appreciation for art or beauty is enriched by acknowledging the full spectrum of experience, including the negative or difficult aspects. Just as a mathematical system is limited if it only deals with positive numbers, an understanding of beauty that excludes the ugly or challenging does not offer a complete perspective on life and creativity.
In practice
In an art class when discussing the importance of all aspects of creativity.
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.
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.
The more horrible this world (as today, for instance), the more abstract our art, whereas a happy world brings forth an art of the here and now.
I have come to the conclusion there is no point making anything if you're not going to make people laugh and cry.
If an essay has a 'motive,' it is linked more to happenstance and opportunity than to the driven will. A genuine essay is not a doctrinaire tract or a propaganda effort or a broadside.
I thought I could capture the stories of the city on paper. I thought I could write about the horrors of the city. Horror stories you see. I tell you I didn't have to look far for material. Everywhere I looked, there were stories hidden there in the dark corners. . . . I wrote and still there were more. . . . No one would publish them. 'Too horrible,' they said. 'Sick mind,' they said. I thought I could write about the horrors of the city but the horror is too big and it goes on forever.
The artist is of no importance. Only what he creates is important, since there is nothing new to be said. Shakespeare, Balzac, Homer have all written about the same things, and if they had lived one thousand or two thousand years longer, the publishers wouldn't have needed anyone since.
Making music has gotten easier; selling it has gotten harder. Making music has been democratized, but the market is in the hands of fascists.
The artist beholds in nature more than she herself Nature is conscious of.
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