Quotes About Art

Pe masura ce arta se infunda in impas, se inmultesc artistii. Aceasta anomalie inceteaza sa mai existe ca atare cand te gandesti ca arta, pe cale de epuizare, a devenit in acelasi timp si imposibila si facila.

The artist abandoning his poem, exasperated by the indigence of words, prefigures the confusion of the mind discontented within the context of the existent. Incapacity to organize the elements—as stripped of meaning and savor as the words which express them—leads to the revelation of the void. Thus the rhymer withdraws into silence or into impenetrable artifices.

În afar? de muzic? ÅŸi poezie,totul e minciun? sau vulgaritate.

Si no tuviéramos alma, la música nos la hubiera creado

When modes of expression are worn out, art tends toward non-sense, toward a private and incomprehensible universe. An intelligible shudder, whether in painting, in music, or in poetry, strikes us, and rightly, as vulgar or out-of-date. The public will soon disappear; art will follow shortly. A civilization which began with the cathedrals has to end with the hermeticism of schizophrenia.

Revolutions is a sublime of bad literature.

Pope Innocent IX, who, having commissioned a painting in which he was shown on his deathbed, glanced at it each time he had to make some important decision.

A mesure que l'art s'enfonce dans l'impasse, les artistes se multiplient. Cette anomalie cesse d'en être une, si l'on songe que l'art, en voie d'épuisement, est devenu à la fois impossible et facile.

Poem, novel, essay, play—everything seems too long. The writer—it is his function—always says more than he has to say: he swells his thought and swathes it with words.

All important things in art have always originated from the deepest feeling about the mystery of Being.

Hardly any of the names of ancient artists are recorded, even though they did more for the happiness of their people than the pharoahs, generals, and world rulers whose pride filled the world with sorrow.

Art is not simply an external ornament donned by the cult to conceal its excessively harsh and austere side; rather the cult has an aesthetic aspect in itself.

Music is the refuge of souls ulcerated by happiness.

Art is a corner of creation seen through a temperament.

If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.

Perfume was first created to mask the stench of foul and offensive odors... Spices and bold flavorings were created to mask the taste of putrid and rotting meat... What then was music created for? Was it to drown out the voices of others, or the voices within ourselves? I think I know.

Nature is a Haunted House—but Art—a House that tries to be haunted.

This was real life - no magic, only practice, commitment, and labor. This lesson, about life, about art, is one I am still learning.

It just proves good movies don't need 100 million dollars to be good.

The artist himself may not think he is religious, but if he is sincere his sincerity in itself is religion.

I think that one's art is a growth inside one. I do not think one can explain growth. It is silent and subtle. One does not keep digging up a plant to see how it grows.

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those we have personality and emotion know what it means to want to escape from these things.

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?