Quotes About Museum

As I went through 'This Progress,' one of two performance pieces by Tino Sehgal that transform Frank Lloyd Wright's emptied-out spiral into a dreamy Socratic-purgatorial journey, the museum literally fell away. I was suspended in some weird nonspace.

Now you are walking in Paris all alone in the crowd As herds of bellowing buses drive by Love's anguish tightens your throat As if you were never to be loved again If you lived in the old days you would enter a monastery You are ashamed when you discover yourself reciting a prayer You make fun of yourself and like the fire of Hell your laughter crackles The sparks of your laugh gild the depths of your life It's a painting hanging in a dark museum And sometimes you go and look at it close up

and the pea was put in the museum, where it can still be seen, if no one has stolen it.

For me, the exhausting thing about touring is the sitting around, which is why working on my concert music is really great - and also seeing concerts and seeing friends and, whenever possible, getting out to see a museum.

We always have a great time touring Germany, but one of my favourite museums in the world is Museum Ludwig, an incredible contemporary art museum in Cologne. I could spend all day in it.

Sometimes Peggy herself would sell tickets to her museum, and if tourists asked her if Mrs. Guggenheim was still alive, she'd assure them she wasn't.

A tourist will just walk up to a Natchezian on the street and ask, 'Where does Greg Iles live?' And they'll say, 'Oh, right over there; just go knock on the door.' I've had people just walk into my office, walk into my house like it's a museum just open to the public.

They took all the trees and put them in a tree museum.

And thus the museum took on a new role, and became a symbol and demonstration of time: time passing, time tracked, time catalogued. In some form at least, a museum is merely a chronology of its specialism, a consistent desire to order and explain events beyond randomness.

Ideas become part of our perceptions, but we are not always conscious of them. The story of art is continually being revised by art movements, by money and collectors, by "definitive" museum shows, by new concerns, discoveries, and ideologies that alter the telling of the past. Every story yokes together disparate elements in time, and every story, by its very nature, leaps over a lot.

I love to be in front of big galleries

In the quadrangle of the Old Schools he glanced round at the familiar labels, blue and gold, over the iron-studded doors,—Schola Theologiae et Antiquae Philosophiae; Museum Arundelianum; Schola Musicae.

Since the world is ending," Peter quoted from behind us, "why not let the children touch the paintings?

I could never imagine ever in my life that I'd be on the side of The Louvre.

I've got funny things. David Duchovny had to have a cast made of his face to do an old person's make-up, and I've got that cast of his face in my house. I've got something from the pilot, the original implant that was in Billy Miles' head. I've got a sign from 'The Erlenmeyer Flask.' But my house isn't a museum to 'The X-Files!'

We are similar to a museum. My function is to present old masterpieces in modern frames.

To have a museum chronicling the great crime that was African slavery in the United States of America would be to acknowledge that the evil was here . Americans prefer to picture the evil that was there , and from which the United States-a unique nation, one without any certifiably wicked leaders throughout its entire history-is exempt. That this country, like every other country, has its tragic past does not sit well with the founding, and still all-powerful belief in American exceptionalism.

Space reserved for being serious is hard to come by in a modern society, whose chief model of a public space is the mega-store (which may also be an airport or a museum).

Qué tiene que ver, con mucho menos que esto en el Museo de La Plata te arman un dinosaurio.

Once you become a curator, you will inevitably end up on TV, if only to talk about your latest exhibition.

I see fetal sciences in you, mummified poems, and bones of my romantic secrets and old innocence. Shall I hang you on the wall of my emotional museum, beside the dark, chill, sleeping irises of my evil? Or shall I spread you over the pines ?suffering book of my love? so you can learn about the song the nightingale offers the dawn?...

Throughout, the Museum reflects the personal taste of Mrs. Whitney. In each case final choice of a work of art depended on her, since there is no board of trustees. This is a Museum founded, maintained and managed by artists, since Mrs. Whitney, the curator, and his assistants are sculptors or painters.

I'd like to design something like a city or a museum. I want to do something hands on rather than just play golf which is the sport of the religious right.

Patrick—if it is indeed Patrick—is still on the ground gasping for air as I make my arrival. I stop, spread my arms, and offer them my most winning smile. The three thugs stare at me as though I am a museum piece that they can't comprehend. Melon Shirt takes one step toward me. "Who the fuck are you?" I am still smiling. "You should leave now." Melon