Going back to the initial proposition, this has been a never ending issue throughout times. Generations may give a different answer. On my revolutionary teens, we were all about art engagé, in every medium - music, literature, painting, theatre, etc. I remember having a rather conservative literature teacher who once said that she spent all her young times arguing against her colleagues, defending beauty versus engagement. But one time she was speechless, when reading for the first time one of our XXth century great poets, who embraced both beauty and engagement with astonishing sensibility. I came to change my point of view in a certain way, and now I would put a lot of emphasis on form. And form conveys meaning. Art has not to be emotional, it can be quite conceptual, actually, but I also tend to react to color and form and texture with my feelings. Once I was seeing a great American abstract painter, and I surprised myself feeling deeply moved by his painting. I was really not expecting my own reactions to his painting. I got curious about him, and searched for some facts about his life, and I learned he was kinda of a bad character, misogynist, etc. I don’t know why it was so moving to me. Perhaps is just… perhaps great works don’t convey this dualism, beauty and/or meaning. They are. And form and meaning are the two faces of the same coin. I am wondering about zen art, for instance. On the other hand, what is beauty? It can be quite a cultural concept, flirting with fashion, l’air du temps, etc. That’s the kind of discussion I used to have with my last boy-friend, who is also a painter. He was very concerned about those kind of issues. He once realised that something he didn’t like one day, he would love it the other day, so he began putting in question some of the “rules”, he made experiences putting together colours nobody would put together, and the first time he did that, it was quite a revelation for him, a wonder. So he tried to get rid of most academic rules and find his way. P. S: The book that turned out my head when I was 14, was Le matin des magiciens... but I wanted my head to be turned out.