Looking at a 1914 watercolor and pencil painting by Paul Klee. It’s called In the Style of Kairouan, and it is considered Klee’s first abstract work.

Something about the work makes me feel like I’m reading someone’s diary — in this case, Klee’s diary. It is a profoundly personal journal entry written in a language that only sounds familiar but isn’t. I cannot see this painting from the other side. I cannot see it through Klee’s eyes, using his mind to decrypt the work, and this keeps me from understanding the thing in itself but it’s fine because it is an opportunity to drift freely and enjoy a moment of meaning creation. At first, I explore the surface of the work intensely. I actively form interpretations in my mind, and then I let go and get lost in it like a log in the middle of the sea.

There is a simplicity in the painting that almost makes me uncomfortable. Rectangles/quadrilaterals of different colors and sizes fill the space. There’s no room to breathe. Then, unpretentious circles come to turn the collage of rectangles into… art.

Most of the rectangles/quadrilaterals stand vertically, except a few. The circles live inside the horizontal ones, but not all horizontal rectangles/quadrilaterals have circles in them. The left side of the painting is conquered by the spirit of red; the right side by the spirit of green.

Could it be that Klee’s unconscious did most of the work?

I’d like to believe it’s a moment of boredom that served as the fertile soil for this piece.

Although there’s nothing to see here, there’s a lot to stay for.