So I'm reading through this essay right now on absurdism, and the author leaves this footnote on art:
It is curious to note that the most intellectual kind of painting, the one that tries to reduce reality to its essential elements, is ultimately but a visual delight. All it has kept of the world is its color. (This is apparent particularly in Léger.)
I'm probably doing the man a great disservice here, but I think there's something to be said for form as well.