Quotes About Art

Every act of love, gratitude, and kindness; every work of art or music inspired by the love of God and delight in the beauty of his creation; every minute spent teaching a severely handicapped child to read or to walk; every act of care and nurture, of comfort and support, for one's fellow human beings and for that matter one's fellow nonhuman creatures; and of course every prayer, all Spirit-led teaching, every deed that spreads the gospel

The present world is good, but broken and in any case incomplete; art of all kinds enables us to understand that paradox in its many dimensions. But the present world is also designed for something which has not yet happened. It is like a violin waiting to be played: beautiful to look at, graceful to hold—and yet if you'd never heard one in the hands of a musician, you wouldn't believe the new dimensions of beauty yet to be revealed.

It is central to Christian living that we should celebrate the goodness of creation, ponder its present brokenness, and, insofar as we can, celebrate in advance the healing of the world, the new creation itself. Art, music, literature, dance, theater, and many other expressions of human delight and wisdom, can all be explored in new ways.

Art is on the side of the oppressed. Think before you shudder at the simplistic dictum and its heretical definition of the freedom of art. For if art is freedom of the spirit, how can it exist within the oppressors?

The creative act is not pure.

Music has no limits of a life-span.

Sometimes, I sit down to sketch at the unearthly hour of 3 in the morning!

Mercants have a gift for obsession. It's led to prison sentences, epic heroism, great works of art and madhouses. Choose your path.

The Protocol. Silence. A choice made generations ago to wipe out violence, but that had also succeeded in wiping out joy, laughter, and love. It had made the Psy an emotionless, robotic race that excelled in business and technology but produced no forms of art, no great music, no works of literature.

I bet there are still many openings and loopholes in art history ... which are being overlooked right now by millions of young people who complain that everything has already been done, so that they cannot do new breakthroughs. However, the history of the world says that we don't win the games, but we change the rules of the games.

El rostro de Annie parecía amónico y dorado, como el de una mujer de un cuadro renacentista.

One reads poetry because he is a member of the human race, and the human race is filled with passion! Medicine, law, banking - these are necesseary to sustain life. But poetry, romance, love, beauty? These are what we stay alive for!

Style, someone once said, is a marriage of love between an individual and his or her language.

I never cry at the theatre. It seems to me that I feel things far too deeply, too deep down in my heart, to---to splash on top!

What also excites me is that the artist attempts with the visual what I attempt to do with words: stop time, create a moment, and celebrate the process.

If movies and music are vehicles for emotionally "hooking" people into Hollywood worldviews, then the best countermeasure is to create more compelling, more beautiful forms of art that express a biblical worldview.

Art is a visual language, and Christians have a responsibility to learn that language.

Stories and images can be powerful means for conveying ideas. Every time we read a book or watch a movie, we enter into an imaginative

Christian art should grow out of the robust confidence that nothing is unredeemable—that Jesus himself entered into the darkest levels of human experience and transformed them into sources of life and renewal.

Indeed, the reason the fall is such a tragedy is precisely because humans have such high value to begin with. When a cheap trinket is broken, we toss it aside without a second thought. But when a priceless work of art is destroyed, we are heartbroken. The reason sin is so tragic is that it destroys a human being—a priceless masterpiece that reflects the character of the Supreme Artist.

Overcooked asparagus dripped off the rim of a platter like clocks in a Dalí painting. And

Chopin étude. At first, she rushed, hit the wrong keys, could not get the rhythm right, but she continued, and as the music unwound like a silken rope from a magic skein, she entered that kingdom that art created, between reality and the possibility of other realities, between harsh life and shining beauty, between death and the possibility of eternity, that radiant realm that nourished her soul and made her understand why she lived.

I drew anything. Everything. Doodles at first. But I had a knack for reproducing what I saw, and soon my paper and pencil — and then later, my paints and charcoals — formed a strong, protective wall around me. They stood between me and everyone else in the world. I liked it that way. I liked being quiet, letting no one know what I thought, or how ferocious those thoughts were.

Death, the only inevitable item on the list of life, is nonetheless such a constant matter of human creativity.