Max Beckmann

Recent publications · Crossref

5 total works indexed

1. SPAdes: A New Genome Assembly Algorithm and Its Applications to Single-Cell Sequencing

   · 2012 · cited 24,060x

2. A smooth particle mesh Ewald method

   · 1995 · cited 21,167x

3. Reproducible, interactive, scalable and extensible microbiome data science using QIIME 2

   · 2019 · cited 19,959x

4. Welcome to the Tidyverse

   · 2019 · cited 19,326x

5. Initial sequencing and analysis of the human genome

   · 2001 · cited 18,515x

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Quotes

• “The laws of art are eternal and don't change at all, as the moral laws don't change in human beings. [arguing with Franz Marc who demanded in 'Der Blaue Reiter' circa 1912 a new modern art, in relation to its own - changing - time].”
• “Oh I wish that I could paint again. Paint is an instrument without which I cannot survive for any length of time. Whenever I even think of gray, green and white, I am overcome with quivers of lust. Then I wish that this war would end and that I might paint again.”
• “I have never, God or whatever knows, prostrated myself to be famous, but I would meander through all the sewers of the world, through all degradation and humiliations, in order to paint. I have to do this. Until the last drop every vision that exists in my being must be purged; then it will be a pleasure for me to be rid of this damned torture”
• “[it is] amusing all the same, how the peacetime life we cursed and groaned about now elevates itself with iron logic to the status of paradise..”
• “Yesterday we came across a cemetery that had been completely destroyed by shellfire. The graves had been blown up, and the coffins lay about in the most uncomfortable positions. The shells had unceremoniously exposed their distinguished occupants to the light of day, and bones, hair, and bits of clothing could be seen through cracks in the burst-open coffins.”
• “The trenches wound in meandering lines and white faces peered from dark dugouts – a lot of men were still preparing the positions, and everywhere among them there were graves. Where they sat, beside their dugouts, even between the sandbags, crosses stuck out. Corpses jammed in among them. It sounds like fiction – one man was frying potatoes on a grave next to his dugout. The existence of life here had already become a paradoxical joke.”

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Wikidata facts

Image

Max Beckmann 1928, by Hugo Erfurth.jpg

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