It seemed a good idea at the time to reduce everything to its elementals.
If you can define the parts you will control the whole. Canvas and paint concerned only canvas and paint. A rose was a rose was a rose. Everyone could and would be free to live in glass houses. There were no ideas but in things, and less was always more than none.
You never questioned why escape velocity became the overriding concern of science.
No one, especially you, dared to ask if this was about light or window or soul.
Questions might have softened the mass imperative for everyone to confine their lives to the three simple dimensions of line, square, and box. To essentially ignore the three complex dimensions: motion, time, and memory.
And eliminate entirely the conflagration, the master work which occurs when you close your eyes and see at once all you have ever seen and press your brushes to the matt and trace the contradiction of knowing too little when you know too much.