Quotes About Art

I love my sculptures, and I was lucky I had them for 50 years because no one would look at them and I really liked having them around.

I love creating images, of course, because I'm an artist.

Just let me go, we have to be able to criticize what we love, to say what we have to say 'cause if you're not trying to make something better, then as far as I can tell, you are just in the way.

I want to have the fun of doing anime and I love anime, but I can't do storyboards because I can't really draw and that's what they live and die on.

I think if you don't love people and aren't fascinated by them, you'll never succeed as a portrait photographer, because your pictures will look cold.

Art is the accomplice of love.

Only those who love color are admitted to its beauty and immanent presence. It affords utility to all, but unveils its deeper mysteries only to its devotees.

Art is also a quasi-utopian promise of happiness, always broken.

With agriculture, art lost its variety and became standardized into geometric designs that tended to degenerate into dull, repetitive patterns, a perfect reflection of standardized, confined, rule-patterned life.

Music touches us emotionally, where words alone can't.

My body is a journal in a way. It's like what sailors used to do, where every tattoo meant something, a specific time in your life when you make a mark on yourself, whether you do it yourself with a knife or with a professional tattoo artist.

I could eat alphabet soup and shit better lyrics.

To be motivated to write a novel, I need to be unable not to write.

It would be both an identical work of art only by virtue of its difference. The same but different, he suggested, like twins.

Poetry cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets that preserve the languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a translation. But as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the language.

Finish-the-fucking-story". "Music!

She is in Paris, in Parisian clothes, getting ready to go out with a Frenchman she picked up in an art gallery! She pulls her hair back into a loose knot, puts on her lipstick, sits down on the bed and laughs.

You have to stop drawing on things!"Teena was yelling. "Paper only, okay? Not walls. Not faces. Not Mrs. Reynold's dog. Not my pants." "I was doing the days of the week pants" "I don't need days of the week pants!" She shouted. "And if I did I would spell Wednesday correctly!

The Kommandant thought about this, as if my answer had satisfied him. "I once wanted to be a painter. I was no good, of course. I had to confront the truth of the matter very early on." He fingered the stem of his glass. "I often think that the ability to earn a living by doing the thing one loves must be one of life's greatest gifts.

You reminded me that the world is capable of beauty, and that there were once things—art, joy, love—that filled my world, instead of fear and nettle soup and curfews. I saw you in my expression.

He stops before a perfect little painting in which she has pictured her spine as a cracked column. There is something about the grief in her eyes that won't let him look away. That is suffering, he thinks. He thinks about how long he's been moping about Sandrine, and it makes him feel embarrassed, self-indulgent. Theirs, he suspects, was not an epic love story like Diego and Frida's.

The world is full of people who will try to bring you down, Caitlin," Mum said, turning to look at me. "And full of things that will make you sad and angry. But they are only people and things, and you, you are a dancer. Dancers are never defeated.

I didn't say much; my head was still ringing with the music, and I didn't want it to fade. I kept thinking back to it, the way that Will's friend had been so lost in what he was playing. I hadn't realized that music could unlock things in you, could transport you to somewhere even the composer hadn't predicted. It left an imprint in the air around you, as if you carried its remnants with you when you went.

Tattoo. What a loaded word it is, rife with associations to goons, goofs, bikers, tribal warriors, carnival artists, drunken sailors and floozies.