Quotes About Art

Hätten wir auch eine Phantastik wie eine Logik, so wäre die Erfindungskunst – erfunden. Zur Phantastik gehört auch die Ästhetik gewissermaßen wie die Vernunftlehre zur Logik.

One makes a great error if one believes there are 'ancients.' Only now is antiquity starting to arise. It arises in the eyes and soul of the artist.

Arta este: des?vâr?irea activit??ii noastre - a voi într-un anume fel - potrivit unei idei - a voi ?i a f?ptui e aici acela?i lucru. Numai prin exersarea repetat? a activit??ii noastre, ce devine tot mai precis? ?i mai viguroas?, apare arta.

Exiles, she and Leroy. They didn't need to go to Paris; that would do no good. What's the point of being spat on in France? What could they do in Rio, where black people are a mythological presence? No, the frontiers in Leroy's destiny were the sounds he heard and gave back as music; for Cypress the terrain of the new world was art. Her dance, like her people before her, adapted to the contours of her new land.

Love and business and family and religion and art and patriotism are nothing but shadows of words when a man's starving!

I wanted to paint a picture some day that people would stand before and forget that it was made of paint. I wanted it to creep into them like a bar of music and mushroom there like a soft bullet.

Çeli?kili duyarl?klara ayn? anda yer veren insan?n iç dünyas? çok ba?kayd?. Bir Bach sonat?yla bir Beethoven senfonisinin yanyana çal?nmas? onun yan?nda bir ?ey ifade etmiyordu.

Dü?üncemin duvarlar?na resimler asmak istedi?im halde bir türlü olmad?.

Co?kun:… Art?k benim sesimi de dinlemeli insanlar! ?ster keman sesi olsun,ister oyun sesi;yeni bir ses getirmeliyim bu dünyaya!

Kötü bir resim asar?m korkusuyla hiç resim asmad?m; kötü ya?ar?m korkusuyla hiç ya?amad?m

Sonra ne olmu?tu? Sonra... buradas?n ya... bu evde. Demek sonra hiçbir ?ey olmad? onunla ilgili. Ne kötü, ne de iyi bir ?ey: Demek ki hiçbir ?ey. Ama bunu hissetmedim; geçi?ler öyle sezdirmeden oldu ki... Hay?r, dü?üncelerin kar??t?; basit anlam?yla sözlerin... Bununla ne ilgisi var? Fakat ben... ondan kaçarken, nas?l oldu da birden ba??m? çevirip bu resmi çektirdim? Hep böyle mi durdum resimlerde?

You see how all occidental art loses by the fact that the magnificent expressions of love have been denied it. With us, eroticism is poor, stupid and frigid. It is always presented in ambiguous attitudes of sin, while here it preserves all its vital scope, all its passionate poetry and the stupendous pulse of all nature. But you are only a european lover... a poor, timid, chilly little soul.

Why did they kill it? Man can't stand to let something beautiful and pure, a thing on wings, pass over him. He hates everything that soars, and everything that sings. It seemed to me this swan is the very image of my dream, and my dream is dead.

Every story I create, creates me. I write to create myself.

Às vezes, eu escrevia coisas porque não conseguia dizê-las, não conseguia entender meus sentimentos em relação a elas, não conseguia mantê-las presas dentro de mim. Era um tipo de escrita que eu sempre destruía depois. Não era para ninguém.

Vocabulary and grammar are your primary tools. They're most effectively used, even most effectively abused, by people who understand them.

Touched by poetry, language is more fully language and at the same time is no longer language: it is a poem.

There can be a "boom" in petroleum or wheat, but there can't be a boom in the novel and less still in poetry.

While I recognize the necessity for a basis of observed reality... true art lies in a reality that is felt.

I have tried to put the real at the service of the unreal.

It is nature also who orders us to obey the gifts she has given us. Mine have led me to dreams; I submitted to the torments of imagination and the surprises she gave me under my pencil; but I directed and led those surprises in accordance with the laws of the organism of art which I know, which I feel, with the single goal of producing in the spectator, by sudden attraction, the whole evocation, and the whole enticement of the uncertain within the confines of thought.

J'ai fait un art selon moi. Je l'ai fait avec les yeux ouverts sur les merveilles du monde visible, et, quoi qu'on en ait pu dire, avec le souci constant d'obéir aux lois du naturel et de la vie.

Poets aren't very useful Because they aren't consumeful or very produceful.

Love is a word that is constantly heard, Hate is a word that is not. Love, I am told, is more precious that gold. Love, I have read, is hot. But hate is the verb that to me is superb, And love but a drug on the mart. Any kiddie in school can love like a fool, But hating, my boy, is an art.