Quotes About Art

Once someone who draws superheroes draws your picture , you never want to go back to reality .

Stendhal syndrome, Angel says, is a medical term. It's when a painting, or any form of art, is so beautiful it overwhelms the viewer. It's a form of shock. When Stendhal toured the Church of Santa Croce in Florence in 1817, he reported almost fainting from joy. People feel rapid heart palpitations. They get dizzy. Looking at great art makes you forget your own name, forget even where you're at. It can bring on depression and physical exhaustion. Amnesia. Panic. Heart attack. Collapse.

The first step - especially for young people with energy and drive and talent, but not for money - the first step to controlling your world is to control your culture. To model and demonstrate the kind of world you demand in. To write the books. Make the music. Shoot the films. Paint the art.

Art, inspiration, love, they're all so easy to dissect. To explain away.

Louvre müzesini yakmak istiyordum. Antik Yunan heykellerini çekiçle k?rmak, k?ç?m? Mona Lisa'ya silmek istiyordum. Art?k bu benim dünyam. Bu benim dünyam, benim dünyam ve o antik insanlar?n hepsi öldü.

ÄŒistÄ› pro úplnost, jen to, že se probudíte nadopovaná, s vyholeným ohanbím a s n??ím umÄ›lohmotným zastr?eným do pochvy, z vás jeÅ¡tÄ› neudÄ›lá skute?nou umÄ›lkyni.

Young people want mirrors. Older people want art. If I couldn't see myself, my world, in Cheever or Gatsby, I rejected them.

Vaktimizin çoÄŸunu baÅŸkalar?n?n yaratt??? ÅŸeyleri yarg?layarak geçirdiÄŸimizden, kendimiz hiçbir ÅŸey yaratamad?k. Sanat asla mutluluktan doÄŸmaz.

why is it a terrible battle scene like picasso's guernica can be beautiful, while a painting of two unicorns kissing in a flower garden can look like crap. does anybody really know why they like anything?

Why is it a terrible battle scene like Picasso's Guernica can be beautiful, while a painting of two unicorns kissing in a flower garden can look like crap. Does anybody really know why they like anything?

I felt like destroying something beautiful.

We all have the same Rislampa/Har paper lamps made from wire and environmentally friendly unbleached paper. Mine are confetti.

Jedna dívka, se kterou se Misty znala na výtvarné Å¡kole, naplnila kuchy?ský mixér mokrým betonem a nechala ho puÅ¡tÄ›ný, dokud se motor v oblaku Å¡tiplavého dýmu nezavaÃ…â"¢il. To bylo její vyjádÃ…â"¢ení k životu ženy v domácnosti.

The Muse is not real. Relying on the Muse is like leaning on a crutch made of playing cards.

Walls tagged with graffiti (one such piece of tagging: a stencil of a familiar Sith Lord's helmet with the phrase beneath it reading VADER LIVES).

Sometimes the work emerged out of intent—the desire to make a specific thing. But just as often, what she created was not of her design, but, rather, was like archaeology: It was more of an uncovering, as if the artist's job was simply to find what the material was trying to hide. And then wrestle it to the surface, so that all could see. Or, in her case, cut the trapped spirit free.

Your first draft can and should look like a fucking warzone. That's okay. Don't sweat it, because you survived. Put differently, that first draft of yours has permission to suck. Go forth and care not.

Mood is painted in the margins: you create the image by negative space, dancing around it without ever saying it. 9.

Writing is the act of creation. Put words on a page, words to sentences, sentences to paragraphs, paragraphs to seven-book epic fantasy cycles with books so heavy you could choke a hippo. But don't give writing too much power, either. A wizard controls his magic; it doesn't control him.

Together, they placed Trigger in a case all its own, clearing out the gold records that hung there. ("Gold records are bullshit," Pete said, throwing them behind them in a pile. They clattered as they fell—not the sound of metal against metal, but the sound of garbage against garbage. "Disposable. Not even real gold. Just some cheap shit vinyl they spray-paint.")

I know art when I see it, but I don't make it. Some people are makers, others are vampires—that's me. We grow fat on your ideas and imagination. I'm just a beautiful tapeworm, darling…

I'm disgusted with how people get themselves to look beautiful; I'm much more fascinated with the other side.

It occurred to me, not for the first time, that Lili's world was not so different from my dioramas, or even from Sirena's installations: you took a tiny portion of the earth and made it yours, but really what you wanted was for someone else -- ideally, a grown-up, because a grown-up matters, has authority, but is also not the same as you -- to come and see, to get it, and thereby, somehow, to get you; and all of this, surely so that you might ultimately feel less alone on the planet.

That's sort of what happened with Cassie and me. I guess I was Goya, just doing my thing, and she was the French Revolution.