Best 22487 quotes in «art quotes» category

Re-programming your mind, body & spirit is like planting a garden, if the soil isn't right nothing will grow.

Revolutionary art need not be overtly political in content; what is more important is that it demand a new means of perception on the part of its spectators. The subject in process/on trial can thus be fundamentally transformed. Change here, at the level of individual consciousness, is a necessary element of social change. Seen in this way, the arts are not merely reflective of social relations but are productive of social relations.

Revolutionaries need poets, too.

Richardson' moralizing novels contain the germ of the most immoral art that has ever existed, namely the incitement to indulge in those wish-fantasies in which decency is only a means to an end, and the inducement to occupy oneself to mere illusions instead of striving for the solution of the real problems of life. They also, for that reason, denote one of the most important dividing lines in the history of modern literature; previously the works of an author were either really moral or immoral, but since his time the books which want to appear moral in most cases merely moralize. In the struggle against the upper classes the bourgeois loses his innocence, and as he has to emphasize his virtue all too often, he becomes a hypocrite.

Rome took all the vanity out of me, for after seeing the wonders there, I felt too insignificant to live, and gave up all my foolish hopes in despair." "Why should you, with so much energy and talent?" "That's just why, because talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing. I won't be a common-place dauber, so I don't intend to try anymore.

Rough work with a soul will always be open to all, including condemnation & reviling, while fine work housing emptiness is closed to all insults & is easily ivied over with paid praises

Rules kill art.

Rumfoord had known that Constant would try to debase the picture by using it in commerce. Constant's father had done a similar thing when he found he could not buy Leonardo's "Mona Lisa" at any price. The old man had punished Mona Lisa by having her used in an advertising campaign for suppositories. It was the free-enterprise way of handling beauty that threatened to get the upper hand.

Rose's work of art took her all day, including two playtimes, story time, and most of lunch. At the end of school it was stolen from her by the wicked teacher who had pretended to be so interested. "Beautiful- what-is-it?" she asked as she pinned it high on the wall, where Rose could not reach. "They take your pictures," said Indigo,... when he finally made out what all the roaring and stamping was about. "They do take them.... Why do you want that picture so much?" he asked Rose. "It was my best ever," said Rose furiously. "I hate school. I hate everyone in it. I will kill them all when I'm big enough." "You can't just go round killing people," Indigo told her...

sacred knowledge of the cosmos seems to be hidden within our souls and is shown within our artwork and creative expressions.

Saber fer les coses que no es volen fer ajuda a fer bé les coses que es volen fer

Sabism is deabstraction, metacolorism, thematism, exotic, convalescent substrate, soft act, collectivism, pluralization, sensationalism, pluralart, thematic colourism, reabstraction.

Sabism is thematic pallet, philosophical colourism, chromatic signature and dual art, bi-chromatic scale, soft scale, poetics of attractiveness, mythologism, actual value, logism of color, active color, logical panel.

Sadly, many storytellers and artists are still addicted to the old delusions (happy is boring, evil is interesting) about the risks of good mental health. Even those who don’t view peace of mind as a threat to their creative power often believe that it’s a rare commodity attained through dumb luck….It’s possible to define a more supple variety of happiness that does not paralyze the will or sap ambition….the number one trait of happy people is a serious determination to be happy. Bliss is a habit you can cultivate, in other words, not an accident.

Sadness is a part of life; Love is the heart of life; But facing pain and to come out strong is the real art of life

Saturday-morning cartoon sure aren't what they used to be. The animation is lazy. Too clean. He misses being able to detect pencil lines and paint strokes in his favorite cartoon characters, his mind never quite separating the creatures from the art that brought them to life.

Saying that 'art lacks practical application' is like saying 'I can’t eat money'—it’s technically true but horribly misleading about the importance of the item in question.

Schelling's God is the totality of Nature struggling towards consciousness, and Man is as far as the struggle has got, with the animals not too far behind, vegetables somewhat lagging, and rocks nowhere as yet. Do we believe this? Does it matter? Think of it as a poem or a painting. Art doesn't have to be true like a theorem. It can be true in other ways. This truth says there is a meaning to it all, and Man is where the meaning begins to show.

Science is an organized pursuit of triviality. Art is a casual pursuit of significance. Let's keep it in perspective.

Science can now help us to understand ourselves in this way by giving factual information about brain structure and function, and how the mind works. Then there is an art of self knowledge, which each person has to develop for himself. This art must lead one to be sensitive to how his basically false approach to life is always tending to generate conflict and confusion. The role of art here is therefore not to provide a symbolism, but rather to teach the artistic spirit of sensitive perception of the individual and particular phenomena of one's own psyche. This spirit is needed if one is to understand the relevance of general scientific knowledge to his own special problems, as well as to give effect to the scientific spirit of seeing the fact about one's self as it is, whether on elikes it or not, and thus helping to end conflict. Such an approach is not possible, however, unless one has the spirit that meets life wholly and totally. We still need the religious spirit, but today we no longer need the religious mythology, which is now introducing an irrelevant and confusing element into the whole question. Itwould seem, then, that in some ways the modern person must manage to create a total approach to life which accomplishes what was done in earlier days by science, art and religion, but in a new way that is appropriate to the modern conditions of life. An important part of such an action is to see what the relationshipbetween science and art now actually is, and to understand the direction in which this relationship might develop.

Science is what we understand well enough to explain to a computer; art is everything else.

Sculptors feel that somebody else is using their hands, that they couldn’t possibly be doing this.

Scientists are fascinated by Escher's work because they recognize in it not only a concept of the world with which they are familiar but also a similar attitude toward that world. For them as for him, the plurality of the world signifies neither absurdity nor chaos but a challenge to look for new logical relationships between phenomena.

Second driven nature I was always a mad drunken sailor. Once nature is denied, we were whispers over graveyards, operating on every level, more touched by destiny, left you a mess underneath higher poems, you tasted like mystery; and our role was to appreciate the relationship with the dying world you brought into calm waves, and her poems were stranger than I can suppose. Your hot pink mist rose, unrecognizable, and this world mutes the poetry waving through your pure hair, mathematics all in my mind deciding statements in your name. My eyes become the picture of life, not the shadow of my flesh your visible glance made drip endlessly against the golden California streets.

Seduction is an art known only to the best of the artistes.

Self-destruction is an art; cursed are the exponents.

See feel draw: One verb.

SEE what you think.

Sehen Sie, gerade in der Kunst brauchen wir wieder eine Jugend die zu allen Problemen akitv Stellung nimmt.

Selamat menyimak wawancara dalam buku ini yang bertaburan gagasan-gagasan menyentak.

Selling your soul for money, recognition, or any otherworldly good is like selling your hearing for a music collection. It's pointless. What good is the music if you can't hear it? No amount of money or power is worth even a shred of the human soul.

Semoga di 2017 jenis Php semakin bisa diidentifikasi, sehingga mblo mblo indonesia semakin waspada dan lebih berhati-hati

Serious art is born from serious play.

Seni yang benar-benar seni, tentu saja berbeda, dan anak-anak muda itu memakai alasan seni untuk membenarkan sikap mereka yang malas-malasan

Semoga di 2017 orang2 semakin sadar bahwa penyiar berita lebih perhatian ngucapin "selamat pagi" ketimbang gebetan yg sering diculik UFO

SELF PORTRAIT: Throwing Armfuls of Air into the Air

Seriously, I think it is a grave fault in life that so much time is wasted in social matters, because it not only takes up time when you might be doing individual private things, but it prevents you storing up the psychic energy that can then be released to create art or whatever it is. It's terrible the way we scotch silence & solitude at every turn, quite suicidal. I can't see how to avoid it, without being very rich or very unpopular, & it does worry me, for time is slipping by , and nothing is done. It isn't as if anything was gained by this social frivolity, It isn't: it's just a waste.

Shakespeare was a far better psychologist than Freud, and Jane Austen a far better sociologist than Durkheim

She could have wept. It was bad, it was bad, it was infinitely bad! She could have done it differently of course; the colour could have been thinned and faded; the shapes etherealised; that was how Paunceforte would have seen it. But then she did not see it like that. She saw the colour burning on a framework of steel; the light of a butterfly’s wing lying upon the arches of a cathedral.

She didn't even insult me. She just didn't compliment me. This is how fragile the ego can be in connection with our creative expressions. The critic's voice is so powerful because it resonates with the voices of our deepest fears, those voices speaking from the inside of us, telling us that we are not good enough. The critics confirm our repressed and terrified suspicions that we don't measure up, that we are unsafe and unlovable.

She did not understand music and it upset her, it had only sad, tragic things to say. These leaping forms, these pursuits and insistences, these elusive desperate repetitions, always seemed to her like one long cry of agony. She could not, in this company, allow herself the luxury of self-pitying tears, which was her highest tribute to the art. She looked about her and let the music gather to her the people with whom she was so deeply concerned.

She gave life a meaning. She was art, dressed like a painters pallet, bright and unaware of how goddam beautiful she could be turned into; with the right touch, her smile was the brush and her story was the canvas.

She loved the smell of wet dirt the way others might love the smell of roses.

She has given me a way out.

She loves filming and taking photographs. I can imagine her making beautiful films in France or India or somewhere with a gorgeously colourful culture. She somehow reminds me of my favourite place in the world, she and Paris I can romanticize and immortalize in ceaseless poetry for the rest of my life.

She preferred art so she chose to become a painter. I look at the painting and can't understand how she could 'choose'. We do things because we have to.

She pours sugar on her life and drinks the artist’s marrow in the bone of her glass and she lives.

She's also in love with the 'Polish Rider'." "Who's he?" "A picture by Rembrandt.

She thought of all the people in all the paintings she had seen that day, not just Father's, in all the paintings of the world, in fact. Their eyes, the particular turn of a head, their loneliness or suffering or grief was borrowed by an artist to be seen by other people throughout the years who would never see them face to face. People who would be that close to her, she thought, a matter of a few arms' lengths, looking, looking, and they would never know her.

She wanted to and believed she could —so she did.