Quotes About Art

Zoe Marie Jones, a doctoral candidate in the Department of Art, Art History, and Visual Studies at Duke University, joined

When I made art alone, it was a fantasy, but shared with Erin and Helen, art became a mission.

stay in your lane" politics in which artists and writers are asked to speak only from their personal ethnic experiences. Such a politics not only assumes racial identity is pure—while ignoring the messy lived realities in which racial groups overlap—but reduces racial identity to intellectual property.

He got rid of the punchline to prove that stand-up could be anything, which is what geniuses do: they blow up mothballed conventions in their chosen genre and show you how a song, or a poem, or a sculpture, can take any form.

In the mid-aughts, there was even a short-lived movement called New Sincerity, where artists and writers thought that it would be a radical idea to feel. "To feel" entailed regressing to one's own childhood, when there was no Internet and life was much purer and realer. Though they prized authenticity above all else, they stylized their work in a vaguely repellent faux-naïf aesthetic that dismissed politics for shoe-gazing self-interest.

She talked about how the circuits of a poetic form are not charged on what you say, but what you hold back. The poem is a net that catches the stutters, the hesitations, rather

He wanted to get down his reactions to that painting, exactly what he'd noticed and his response to it. You never get a second chance to have a first impression.

Frédéric Bazille, Young Woman with Peonies.

Mature trees, bark lacquered black, fingered upward. The twigs formed fine black traceries against the white sky. They reminded Jarret of pencil lines on snowy canvas.

What really is at stake? The subjects are Black, the painters White, yet you want to argue against objectification in this case?

Anger burned in him as he went to unload the painter's supplies from his wagon. He had let himself like this man, but he was no different from the rest.

What are works of art for? to educate, to be standards. To produce is of little use unless what we produce is known, is widely known, the wider known the better, for it is by being known that it works, it influences, it does its duty, it does good. We must try, then, to be known, aim at it, take means to it. And this without puffing in the process or pride in the success.

Als je het opschrijft, staat het meteen op papier ook.

De toekomst blijft, dunkt mij, aan de figuratieve kunst, zoals ook in de literatuur de toekomst zal blijven aan het samenhangende verhaal met een begin en een einde -liefst met een conventionele interpunctie- en aan het samenhangende gedicht, beide tot stand gebracht in beheerst en bekwaam taalgebruik, en beide hoe geheimzinnig van inhoud ook, aan de oppervlakte een duidelijk herkenbare mededeling bevattend.

Would you destroy Something perfect in order to make it beautiful?

To talk about paintings is not only difficult but perhaps pointless too. You can only express in words what words are capable of expressing-- what language can communicate. Painting has nothing to do with that.

I believe that art has a kind of rightness, as in music, when we hear whether or not a note is false

Art is the highest form of hope.

My paintings are wiser than I am.

Half the point in reading novels and seeing plays and films is to exercise the faculty of sympathy with our own kind, so often obliterated in the multifarious controls and compulsions of actual social existence.

At no time did anyone throw his cap in the air and rejoice that another painter, capable of equaling Hals at his best, had been discovered.

Her paintings formed a visual diary, an outward manifestation of her inward dialog that was, all too often, a scream of pain.

To his considerable discredit, Diego did not break off the affair with Cristina once Frida discovered them. He went on to paint a rather glamorous portrait of the younger sister with her two children in the National Palace mural, partially obscuring a dowdy image of Frida.

of Shelley's masterpiece was not vague,