b2fb536
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Everything you can imagine is real.
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art
imagination
inspirational
life
|
Pablo Picasso |
7845880
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A painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light.
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art
inspirational
|
Leonardo da Vinci |
8da37df
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Any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.
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|
inspirational
love
redemption
sadness
art
|
Clive Barker |
4213b9b
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We don't make mistakes, just happy little accidents.
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art
inspirational
|
Bob Ross |
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Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write
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act-of-creation
art
creativity
inspirational
poetry
writing
|
Rainer Maria Rilke |
804057a
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Art is the proper task of life.
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|
art
inspirational
life
|
Friedrich Nietzsche |
a8bdea3
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Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.
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|
art
autumn
color
fall
seasons
|
J.K. Rowling |
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I don't paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality.
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|
art
dreams
inspirational
nightmares
painting
|
Frida Kahlo |
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Every morning when I wake up, I experience an exquisite joy --the joy of being Salvador Dali-- and I ask myself in rapture: What wonderful things is this Salvador Dali going to accomplish today?
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art
be-yourself
humor
inspirational
|
Salvador Dalí |
bdb5fdf
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I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.
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|
art
god
inspirational
nature
|
Frank Lloyd Wright |
0b4f36e
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Love art in yourself, and not yourself in art.
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|
art
inspirational
theatre
|
Constantin Stanislavski |
3c25d83
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All worthy work is open to interpretations the author did not intend. Art isn't your pet -- it's your kid. It grows up and talks back to you.
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|
art
humour
inspirational
interpretation
|
Joss Whedon |
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An idea is salvation by imagination
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|
art
imagination
inspirational
|
Frank Lloyd Wright |
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Because when you love something, you want to do it all the time, even if no one is paying you for it. At least that's how I felt about drawing.
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art
generosity
samantha
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Meg Cabot |
f268a52
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I have already settled it for myself so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.
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art
criticism
inspirational
|
Georgia O'Keefe |
c26545e
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A photographer is like a cod, which produces a million eggs in order that one may reach maturity.
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|
art
cod
fish
humor
images
inspirational
photography
|
George Bernard Shaw |
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|
???????? ??? ??????? ?? ??? ??????. ?????????????????? ???????? ??????? ?????? ???? ????. ???????????? ?????? ???????? ???, ?? ????????? ????? ???. ???????, ?????, ?????, ?????, ?????, ??? ?????????? ??????? ??? ????? ?????? ????. ???????????? ?????? ???????? ?????, ?? ????? ?????? ?????? ?????? ?? ?????? ?? ?????? ????
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art
hobbies
inspirational
life
marathi
|
Purushottam Laxman Deshpande |
3b0f25f
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Bring something incomprehensible into the world!
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|
art
individuality
inspirational
life
new
otherness
|
Gilles Deleuze |
7277f44
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You don't have to make something that people call art. Living is an artistic activity, there is an art to getting through the day.
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|
art
cool
fun
humor
inspirational
wisdom
|
viggo mortensen |
771f7fb
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Artists use frauds to make human beings seem more wonderful than they really are. Dancers show us human beings who move much more gracefully than human beings really move. Films and books and plays show us people talking much more entertainingly than people really talk, make paltry human enterprises seem important. Singers and musicians show us human beings making sounds far more lovely than human beings really make. Architects give us temples in which something marvelous is obviously going on. Actually, practically nothing is going on.
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art
dance
exaggeration
film
|
Kurt Vonnegut |
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We cannot have a world where everyone is a victim. "I'm this way because my father made me this way. I'm this way because my husband made me this way." Yes, we are indeed formed by traumas that happen to us. But then you must take charge, you must take over, you are responsible.
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|
america
art
criticism
culture
democrat
inspirational
liberal
libertarian
republican
responsibility
sex
trauma
victim
|
Camille Paglia |
18a0cb3
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In the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if you were forbidden to write. And look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer, and ask yourself, must I write?
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|
art
destiny
inspirational
on-writing
|
Rainer Maria Rilke |
2852ee8
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It is in dialogue with pain that many beautiful things acquire their value. Acquaintance with grief turns out to be one of the more unusual prerequisites of architectural appreciation. We might, quite aside from all other requirements, need to be a little sad before buildings can properly touch us.
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art
sadness
|
Alain de Botton |
9a0ea41
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Blessed are the weird people
|
|
art
creative
inspirational
poets
writers
writing-life
|
Jacob Nordby |
b7be625
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I shut my eyes in order to see.
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|
art
creative
inspirational
|
Paul Gauguin |
5f5f1f4
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It's up to the artist to use language that can be understood, not hide it in some private code. Most of these jokers don't even want to use language you and I know or can learn . . . they would rather sneer at us and be smug, because we 'fail' to see what they are driving at. If indeed they are driving at anything--obscurity is usually the refuge of incompetence.
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|
art
clarity
communication
writing
|
Robert A. Heinlein |
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The business of art lies just in this, -- to make that understood and felt which, in the form of an argument, might be incomprehensible and inaccessible.
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art
|
Leo Tolstoy |
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I think there is a song out there to describe just about any situation.
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|
art
artist
connection
humanity
inspirational
life
lyrics
music
musician
poetry
song-lyrics
songs
songwriting
truth
world
|
Criss Jami |
9415cca
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If you don't want a generation of robots, fund the arts!
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art
inspirational
robots
|
Cath Crowley |
7f7afb0
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Creating is living doubly. The groping, anxious quest of a Proust, his meticulous collecting of flowers, of wallpapers, and of anxieties, signifies nothing else.
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art
creating
flowers
marcel-proust
wallpaper
|
Albert Camus |
a5378e1
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Just as music is noise that makes sense, a painting is colour that makes sense, so a story is life that makes sense.
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art
books
|
Yann Martel |
f3f9f3a
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"It's freezing up here. What did you use to keep warm?" "Indignation," said Michelangelo. "Best fuel I know. Never burns out."
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art
artists
indignation
|
Irving Stone |
761db6d
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"The ideal art, the noblest of art: working with the complexities of life, refusing to simplify, to "overcome" doubt."
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art
complexity
writing
|
Joyce Carol Oates |
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What has our culture lost in 1980 that the avant-garde had in 1890? Ebullience, idealism, confidence, the belief that there was plenty of territory to explore, and above all the sense that art, in the most disinterested and noble way, could find the necessary metaphors by which a radically changing culture could be explained to its inhabitants.
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|
art
avant-garde
confidence
culture
david-foster-wallace
ebullience
idealism
irony
meta-modernism
metaphor
post-ironic
postmodernism
shia-lebouf
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Robert Hughes |
60159ce
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We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. All art is quite useless.
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|
art
uselessness
utility
|
Oscar Wilde |
3ce7bb8
|
. . . it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn't touch.
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|
art
immortality
|
Donna Tartt |
71c60e3
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The imagination of the genius vastly surpasses his intellect; the intellect of the academic vastly surpasses his imagination
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|
art
artist
criticism
critics
genius
genius-stupidity
imagination
nerd
nerdery
nerds
|
Nassim Nicholas Taleb |
077f9a2
|
The sign of the amateur is overglorification of and preoccupation with the mystery. The professional shuts up. She doesn't talk about it. She does her work.
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art
inspiration
writing
|
Steven Pressfield |
b4204fd
|
Story is the umbilical cord that connects us to the past, present, and future. Family. Story is a relationship between the teller and the listener, a responsibility. . . . Story is an affirmation of our ties to one another.
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|
art
connection
story
|
Terry Tempest Williams |
8a0ae11
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"A writer or any artist can't expect to be embraced by the people. I've done records where it seemed like no one listened to them. You write poetry books that maybe 50 people read. And you just keep doing your work because you have to, because it's your calling. But it's beautiful to be embraced by the people. Some people have said to me, "Well, don't you think that kind of success spoils one as an artist? If you're a punk rocker, you don't want to have a hit record..." And I say to them, "Fuck you!"
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|
art
creativity
writing
|
Patti Smith |
7b914bb
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We don't value craftsmanship anymore! All we value is ruthless efficiency, and I say we deny our own humanity that way! Without appreciation for grace and beauty, there's no pleasure in creating things and no pleasure in having them! Our lives are made drearier, rather than richer! How can a person take pride in his work when skill and care are considered luxuries! We're not machines! We have a human need for craftsmanship!
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|
art
beauty
care
craftsmanship
creating
efficiency
grace
handmade
human
machines
pleasure
quality
quantity
skill
value
|
Bill Watterson |
1b4e3ec
|
Just as no monkey is as good-looking as the ugliest of humans, no academic is worthier than the worst of the creators
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|
academics
art
art-history
artists
arts
creativity
criticism
critics
|
Nassim Nicholas Taleb |
0f336d7
|
Our sadness won't be of the searing kind but more like a blend of joy and melancholy: joy at the perfection we see before us, melancholy at an awareness of how seldom we are sufficiently blessed to encounter anything of its kind. The flawless object throws into perspective the mediocrity that surrounds it. We are reminded of the way we would wish things always to be and of how incomplete our lives remain.
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|
art
happiness
life
melancholy
sadness
|
Alain de Botton |
5ab42bf
|
"Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud, but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hours just wanting to make it through the day. There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got through and the sky was so blue I couldn't look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories, but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desk tick tick tick me not making a sound and some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind, but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine. This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely ways but you can not let it. I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness, thinking it will help but it only feeds the fire and I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me--little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again.
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|
alcohol
anxiety
art
balance
be-okay
chest
coffee
crying
drinking
ed
fine
flowers
focus
grateful
gratitude
happiness
hope
hopeful
hopeless
hurt
inspiration
joy
lovely
lovers
madness
mental-health
music
new-day
okay
panic
panic-attack
panic-attacks
park
recovery
sad
sadness
self-destruction
self-harm
sing
singing
sky
smoking
songs
sound
spring
starving
tears
walking
well-being
wellness
|
Charlotte Eriksson |
faddddd
|
Most striking about the traditional societies of the Congo was their remarkable artwork: baskets, mats, pottery, copper and ironwork, and, above all, woodcarving. It would be two decades before Europeans really noticed this art. Its discovery then had a strong influence on Braque, Matisse, and Picasso -- who subsequently kept African art objects in his studio until his death. Cubism was new only for Europeans, for it was partly inspired by specific pieces of African art, some of them from the Pende and Songye peoples, who live in the basin of the Kasai River, one of the Congo's major tributaries. It was easy to see the distinctive brilliance that so entranced Picasso and his colleagues at their first encounter with this art at an exhibit in Paris in 1907. In these central African sculptures some body parts are exaggerated, some shrunken; eyes project, cheeks sink, mouths disappear, torsos become elongated; eye sockets expand to cover almost the entire face; the human face and figure are broken apart and formed again in new ways and proportions that had previously lain beyond sight of traditional European realism. The art sprang from cultures that had, among other things, a looser sense than Islam or Christianity of the boundaries between our world and the next, as well as those between the world of humans and the world of beasts. Among the Bolia people of the Congo, for example, a king was chosen by a council of elders; by ancestors, who appeared to him in a dream; and finally by wild animals, who signaled their assent by roaring during a night when the royal candidate was left at a particular spot in the rain forest. Perhaps it was the fluidity of these boundaries that granted central Africa's artists a freedom those in Europe had not yet discovered.
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|
art
congo
europe
|
Adam Hochschild |
462f9cd
|
Fascism is fundamentally and at bottom an aesthetic conception, and . . . it is your function as creators of beautiful things to portray with the greatest efficacy the sublime beauty and inevitable reality of the Fascist ideal.
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|
art
beauty
fascism
|
Louis de Bernières |
064e8e5
|
We don't need more museums that try to construct the historical narratives of a society, community, team, nation, state, tribe, company, or species. We all know that the ordinary, everyday stories of individuals are riches, more humane, and much more joyful.
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|
art
individuality
life
museums
|
Orhan Pamuk |
58e0a9c
|
[L]ife is a phenomenon in need of criticism, for we are, as fallen creatures, in permanent danger of worshipping false gods, of failing to understand ourselves and misinterpreting the behaviour of others, of growing unproductively anxious or desirous, and of losing ourselves to vanity and error. Surreptitiously and beguilingly, then, with humour or gravity, works of art--novels, poems, plays, paintings or films--can function as vehicles to explain our condition to us. They may act as guides to a truer, more judicious, more intelligent understanding of the world.
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|
art
criticism
desire
films
gravity
humor
life
novels
paintings
plays
poems
self-understanding
understanding
vanity
|
Alain de Botton |
bf49641
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You love because you want to need someone the way you did when you were a child, and have them need you too. You eat well because the intensity of taste reminds you of a need satisfied, a pain relieved. The finest paintings are nothing more than the red head of a flower, nodding in the breeze, when you were two years old; the most exciting film is just the way everything was, back in the days when you stared goggle-eyed at the whirling chaos all around you. All these things do is get the adult to shut up for a while, to open for just a moment a tiny sliding window in the cell deep inside, letting the pallid child peep hungrily out and drink the world in before darkness falls again.
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|
art
childhood
love
|
Michael Marshall Smith |
12e277f
|
Edward genially enough did not agree with what I said, but he didn't seem to admit my point, either. I wanted to press him harder so I veered close enough to the to point out that his life--the life of the mind, the life of the book collector and music lover and indeed of the gallery-goer, appreciator of the feminine and occasional --would become simply unlivable and unthinkable in an Islamic republic. Again, he could accede politely to my point but carry on somehow as if nothing had been conceded. I came slowly to realize that with Edward, too, I was keeping two sets of books. We agreed on things like the first Palestinian , another event that took the Western press completely off guard, and we collaborated on a book of essays that asserted and defended Palestinian rights. This was in the now hard-to-remember time when all official recognition was withheld from the PLO. Together we debated Professor Bernard Lewis and Leon Wieseltier at a once-celebrated conference of the Middle East Studies Association in Cambridge in 1986, tossing and goring them somewhat in a duel over academic 'objectivity' in the wider discipline. But even then I was indistinctly aware that Edward didn't feel himself quite at liberty to say certain things, while at the same time feeling rather too much obliged to say certain other things. A low point was an almost uncritical profile of Yasser Arafat that he contributed to magazine in the late 1980s.
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|
1986
ad-hominem
arafat
art
bernard-lewis
books
cambridge
debate
edward-said
feminism
first-intifada
intellectualism
interview-magazine
intifada
islamic-republic
israeli-palestinian-conflict
leon-wieseltier
middle-east
middle-eastern-studies
music
palestine
palestinians
theocracy
|
Christopher Hitchens |
860eb35
|
The figure in the icon is not meant to represent literally what Peter or John or any of the apostles looked like, or what Mary looked like, nor the child, Jesus. But, the orthodox painter feels, Jesus of Nazareth did not walk around Galilee faceless. The icon of Jesus may not look like the man Jesus two thousand years ago, but it represents some *quality* of Jesus, or his mother, or his followers, and so becomes an open window through which we can be given a new glimpse of the love of God.
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|
art
iconography
icons
jesus
love
painting
|
Madeleine L'Engle |
44fef85
|
When we drug ourselves to blot out our soul's call, we are being good Americans and exemplary consumers.
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|
art
consumerism
creativity
destiny
soul
|
Steven Pressfield |
98e7997
|
"- Vidite, umetnik, to je "sumnjivoo lice", maskiran covek u sumraku, putnik sa laznim pasosem. Lice pod maskom je divno, njegov rang je mnogo visi nego sto u pasosu pise, ali sta to mari? Ljudi ne vole tu neizvesnost ni tu zakukuljenost, i zato ga zovu sumnjivim i dvolicnim. A sumnja, kad se jednom rodi, ne poznaje granica. Sve i kad bi umetnik mogao nekako da objavi svetu svoju pravu licnost i svoje pozvanje, ko bi mu verovao da je to njegova poslednja rec? I kad bi pokazao svoj pravi pasos, ko bi verovao da nema u dzepu sakriven neki treci? I kad bi skinuo masku u zelji da se iskreno nasmeje i pravo pogleda, bilo bi jos uvek ljudi koji bi ga molili da bude potpuno iskren i poverljiv i da zbaci i tu poslednju masku koja toliko lici na ljudsko bice. Umetnikova sudbina je da u zivotu pada iz jedne neiskrenosti u drugu i da vezuje protivrecnost za protivrecnost. I oni mirni i srecni kod kojih se to najmanje vidi i oseca, i oni se u sebi stalno kolebaju i sastavljaju bez prestanka dva kraja koja se nikad sastaviti ne daju."
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art
|
Ivo Andrić |
a431018
|
I was reminded of a painter friend who had started her career by depicting scenes from life, mainly deserted rooms, abandoned houses and discarded photographs of women. Gradually, her work became more abstract, and in her last exhibition, her paintings were splashes of rebellious color, like the two in my living room, dark patches with little droplets of blue. I asked about her progress from modern realism to abstraction. Reality has become so intolerable, she said, so bleak, that all I can paint now are the colors of my dreams.
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|
art
dreams
reality
|
Azar Nafisi |
4854038
|
Curiously enough, one cannot read a book: one can only reread it. A good reader, a major reader, an active and creative reader is a rereader. And I shall tell you why. When we read a book for the first time the very process of laboriously moving our eyes from left to right, line after line, page after page, this complicated physical work upon the book, the very process of learning in terms of space and time what the book is about, this stands between us and artistic appreciation. When we look at a painting we do not have to move our eyes in a special way even if, as in a book, the picture contains elements of depth and development. The element of time does not really enter in a first contact with a painting. In reading a book, we must have time to acquaint ourselves with it. We have no physical organ (as we have the eye in regard to a painting) that takes in the whole picture and then can enjoy its details. But at a second, or third, or fourth reading we do, in a sense, behave towards a book as we do towards a painting. However, let us not confuse the physical eye, that monstrous masterpiece of evolution, with the mind, an even more monstrous achievement. A book, no matter what it is--a work of fiction or a work of science (the boundary line between the two is not as clear as is generally believed)--a book of fiction appeals first of all to the mind. The mind, the brain, the top of the tingling spine, is, or should be, the only instrument used upon a book.
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|
art
reader
reading
|
Vladimir Nabokov |
cd15dac
|
Film photography will always be superior to digital - because no matter how many lasers and instant buttons and HD pixels you've got, a human being can take a photograph with much more integrity and meaning than one a built-in robot took.
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|
art
camera
cellulod
compassion
digital
film
future
hd
history
human
instant
kodak
magic
nature
nostalgia
photo
photography
robot
|
Rebecca McNutt |
b4082fe
|
"What else can you tell me?" Dad stares at me. "What have you learned while you were awake?" I learned that life is so, so fragile. I learned that you can know someone for just days and never forget the impression he left on you. I learned that art can be beautiful and sad at the same time. I learned that if someone loves you, he'll wait for you to love him back. I learned that how much you want something doesn't determine whether you get it or not, that "no" might not be enough, that life isn't fair, that my parents can't save me, that maybe no one can. "Nothing much," I mutter."
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|
art
chaos
colonel-martin
dad
fragile
hard
life
mess
nothing
sad
save
shades-of-earth
time
unfair
|
Beth Revis |
1e9589b
|
"Airplane Dream #13' told the story, more or less, of a dream Rosa had had about the end of the world. There were no human beings left but her, and she had found herself flying in a pink seaplane to an island inhabited by sentient lemurs. There seemed to be a lot more to it -- there was a kind of graphic "sound track" constructed around images relating to Peter Tchaikovsky and his works, and of course abundant food imagery -- but this was, as far as Joe could tell, the gist. The story was told entirely through collage, with pictures clipped from magazines and books. There were pictures from anatomy texts, an exploded musculature of the human leg, a pictorial explanation of peristalsis. She had found an old history of India, and many of the lemurs of her dream-apocalypse had the heads and calm, horizontal gazes of Hindu princes and goddesses. A seafood cookbook, rich with color photographs of boiled crustacea and poached whole fish with jellied stares, had been throughly mined. Sometimes she inscribed text across the pictures, none of which made a good deal of sense to him; a few pages consisted almost entirely of her brambly writing, illuminated, as it were, with collage. There were some penciled-in cartoonish marginalia like the creatures found loitering at the edges of pages in medieval books."
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|
art
|
Michael Chabon |
54a3539
|
In 1881, being on a visit to Boston, my wife and I found ourselves in the Parker House with the 's, and went over to Charleston to hear him lecture. His subject was 'Some Mistakes of Moses,' and it was a memorable experience. Our lost leaders, -- , , Theodore Parker, -- who had really spoken to disciples rather than to the nation, seemed to have contributed something to form this organ by which their voice could reach the people. . The wonderful power which Washington's Attorney-general, Edmund Randolph, ascribed to of insinuating his ideas equally into learned and unlearned had passed from 's pen to 's tongue. . { }
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|
art
boston
emerson
emotion
friendship
henry-d-thoreau
henry-david-thoreau
henry-thoreau
honor
humor
imagination
ingersoll
inspirational
laughter
lecture
logic
love
memorable
mirth
morality
orator
paine
pathos
poetry
power
praise
ralph-e-emerson
ralph-emerson
ralph-waldo-emerson
reason
respect
robert-g-ingersoll
robert-green-ingersoll
robert-ingersoll
simplicity
some-mistakes-of-moses
speech
sympathy
tears
thomas-paine
thoreau
truth
voice
wisdom
|
Moncure Daniel Conway |
aee6a11
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No peace is possible between the novelist and the agelaste [those who do not laugh]. Never having heard God's laughter, the agelastes are convinced that the truth is obvious, that all men necessarily think the same thing, and that they themselves are exactly what they think they are. But it is precisely in losing the certainty of truth and the unanimous agreement of others that man becomes an individual. The novel is the imaginary paradise of individuals. It is the territory where no one possesses the truth, neither Anna nor Karenin, but where everyone has the right to be understood, both Anna and Karenin.
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art
essay
individual
laughter
novel
truth
uncertainty
uniformity
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Milan Kundera |
27d1aab
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"Only after a writer lets literature shape her can she perhaps shape literature. In working-class France, when an apprentice got hurt, or when he got tired, the experienced workers said, "It is the trade entering his body." The art must enter the body, too."
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art
artist
artistry
discipline
literature
read
reader
reading
the-writing-life
write
writer
writing
writing-advice
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Annie Dillard |
9e0bfac
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Heade's calm is unsteady, storm-stirred; we respond in our era to its hint of the nervous and the fearful. His weather is interior weather, in a sense, and he perhaps was, if far from the first to portray a modern mood, an ambivalent mood tinged with dread and yet imbued with a certain lightness.The mood could even be said to be religious: not an aggressive preachment of God's grandeur but a kind of Zen poise and acceptance, represented by the small sedentary or plodding foreground figures that appear uncannily at peace as the clouds blacken and the lightning flashes.
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art
martin-johnson-heade
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John Updike |
c39bf98
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Art flouts convention. Convention became convention because it works.
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art
convention
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Stewart Brand |
f285331
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Energy manipulation took place completely in mind,same way believing in telepathy caused telepathic abilities to grow STRONGER.
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art
chakras
christina-westover
energy-manipulation
fiction
imagination
inspirational
jack-kerouac
literature
poetry
san-francisco
telepathist
telepathy
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Christina Westover |
805d5c9
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There are those who maintain that you can't demand anything of the reader. They say the reader knows nothing about art, and that if you are going to reach him, you have to be humble enough to descend to his level. This supposes either that the aim of art is to teach, which it is not, or that to create anything which is simply a good-in-itself is a waste of time. Art never responds to the wish to make it democratic; it is not for everybody; it is only for those who are willing to undergo the effort needed to understand it. We hear a great deal about humility being required to lower oneself, but it requires an equal humility and a real love of the truth to raise oneself and by hard labor to acquire higher standards.
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appreciation
art
beauty
criticism
disicipline
truth
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Flannery O'Connor |
39be2a2
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And if I am not mistaken here is the secret of the greatness that was Spain. In Spain it is men that are the poems, the pictures and the buildings. Men are its philosophies. They lived, these Spaniards of the Golden Age; they felt and did; they did not think. Life was what they sought and found, life in its turmoil, its fervour and its variety. Passion was the seed that brought them forth and passion was the flower they bore. But passion alone cannot give rise to a great art. In the arts the Spaniards invented nothing. They did little in any of those they practised, but give a local colour to a virtuosity they borrowed from abroad. Their literature, as I have ventured to remark, was not of the highest rank; they were taught to paint by foreign masters, but, inapt pupils, gave birth to one painter only of the very first class; they owed their architecture to the Moors, the French and the Italians, and the works themselves produced were best when they departed least from their patterns. Their preeminence was great, but it lay in another direction: it was a preeminence of character. In this I think they have been surpassed by none and equalled only by the ancient Romans. It looks as though all the energy, all the originality, of this vigorous race had been disposed to one end and one end only, the creation of man. It is not in art that they excelled, they excelled in what is greater than art--in man. But it is thought that has the last word.
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art
character
creation-of-man
literature
spaniards
the-golden-age
the-last-word
thought
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W. Somerset Maugham |
58f7fd2
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We have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; but thou shalt not know thyself. We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forgot.
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art
ecstasy
forgotten
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G.K. Chesterton |
dc53411
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He died at forty-two. I was there to collect his talent. I was there at the hospital deathbed of my beloved Billie Holiday, just forty-four, her liver destroyed by drinking; I was there inside the hotel room of Charlie Parker, my singular jazz saxophonist, who died in his midthirties, but whose body was so ravaged by drugs the coroners thought he was sixty. Tommy Dorsey, the bandleader, choked in his sleep when he was fifty-one, too deep in pills to awaken. Johnny Allen Hendrix (you called him Jimi) swallowed a handful of barbiturates and expired. He was twenty-seven. It is not new, this idea that a purer art awaits you in a substance. But it is naive. I existed before the first grapes were fermented. Before the first whiskey was distilled. Be it opium or absinthe, marijuana or heroin, cocaine or ecstasy or whatever will follow, you may alter your state, but you will not alter this truth: I am Music. I am here inside you. Why would I hide behind a powder or a vapor? Do you think me so petty?
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alcohol
art
drugs
music
talent
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Mitch Albom |
7dedcc3
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I don't want these. They're mud and they've got no color. Or at least the color is different from what I'm used to. Take any American city, in autumn, or in winter, when the light makes the colors dance and flow, and look at it from a distant hill or from a boat in the bay or on the river, and you will see in any section of the view far better paintings than in this lentil soup that you people have to pedigree in order to love. I may be a thief, but I know color when I see it in the flash of heaven or in the Devil's opposing tricks, and I know mud. Mr. Knoedler, you needn't worry about your paintings anymore. I'm not going to steal them. I don't like them. Sincerely yours, P. Soames
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art
color
paintings
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Mark Helprin |
12b4992
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Nevertheless, we react to one a bit differently than we do to Rothko's hovering panels or Barnett Newman's stripes, though Whistler does approach their extremity of abstraction; part of our pleasure lies in recognizing bridges and buildings in the mist, and in sensing the damp riverine silence, the glimmering metropolitan presence. ... The painting - a single blurred stripe of urban shore - is additionally daring in that the sky and sea are no shade of blue, but, instead, an improbable, pervasive cobalt green. Human vision is here taken to its limits, and modern painting, as a set of sensations realized in paint, is achieved.
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art
james-mcneill-whistler
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John Updike |
74e684b
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The river, tonally, does not recede, presenting the same lifeless grey near and far, a depthless plane upon which Schmitt's dragging oars inscribe parallel lines and Eakins' oars, rising and falling, leave methodically spaced patches of disturbed water. The canvas is haunting - en evocation of the democracy's idyllic, isolating spaciousness, present even in the midst of a great Eastern city.
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art
thomas-eakins
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John Updike |
2e5c6d6
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It's better to have a hunger and appreciation for beauty than to be merely beautiful. In the end, life is richer that way. She may learn that.
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art
beauty
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Susan Vreeland |
453a1e0
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"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."
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19th-century-literature
american-literature
amy-march
art
classic-literature
little-women
louisa-may-alcott
quotes-about-art
rome
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Louisa May Alcott |
68afd37
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...those works that don't touch the heart, it seems to me, miss the true aim of Art.
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art
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Gustav Flaubert |
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"I think we ought to find something else to do," said Mandy. "But Alecto my love, you're the first person to notice my retro diner kitchen. When my parents saw it, they thought I was creating a weird art project." "I like it. It's got that let's-drown-ourselves-in-better-days type ambiance," Alecto declared, his gray eyes narrowed."
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ambience
art
better-days
cape-breton
diner
drowning
fifties
friendship
funny
kitchen
love
nostalgia
nova-scotia
parents
pollution
retro
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Rebecca McNutt |
0a38aaf
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correlation between the growing lack of respect for ideas and the imagination and the increasing gap between rich and poor in America, reflected not just in the gulf between the salaries of CEOs and their employees but also in the high cost of education, the incredible divide between private and public schools that makes all of the fine speeches by our policy makers-- most of whom send their children to private schools anyway, just as they enjoy the benefits and perks of their jobs as servants of the people-- all the more insidious and insincere.
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art
culture
education
imagination
reading
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Azar Nafisi |
d1cf6e8
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Give yourself to these great works of art. They suffice for a lifetime.
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art
enduring
great-works-of-art
iris-murdoch
lifetime
the-black-prince
works-of-art
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Iris Murdoch |
f4530a7
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"Sulkowicz's genius was to make her burden tangible, and in so doing make it something others could share. Solidarity has been a big part of this feminist movement against violence. ("An Insurrectionary Year")"
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art
feminism
rape
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Rebecca Solnit |
fb23b63
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"This river is famed in atrocious song and verse; the most prevalent motif is one which attempts to make of the river an ersatz father figure. Actually, the Mississippi River is a treacherous and sinister body of water whose eddies and currents yearly claim many lives. I have never known anyone who would even venture to stick his toe in its polluted waters, which seethe with sewage, industrial waste, and deadly insecticides. Even the fish are dying. Therefore, the Mississippi as Father-God-Moses-Daddy-Phallus-Pops is an altogether false motif began, I would imagine, by that dreary fraud, Mark Twain. This failure to make contact with reality is, however, characteristic of almost all of America's "art." Any connection between American art and American nature is purely coincidental, but this is only because the nation as a whole has no contact with reality. That is only one of the reasons why I have always been forced to exist on the fringes of its society, consigned to the Limbo reserved for this who do know reality when they see it."
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art
mark-twain
reality
the-mississippi
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John Kennedy Toole |
5dbfb39
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And when all else is gone, Art remains.
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art
art-remains
kate-atkinson
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Kate Atkinson |
5a635d1
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...the line of beauty is the line of beauty. It doesn't matter if it's been through the Xerox machine a hundred times.
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art
beauty
xerox
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Donna Tartt |
efb4de1
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Twenty years earlier, in a life [Kirsten] mostly couldn't remember, she had had a small nonspeaking role in a short-lived Toronto production of King Lear. Now she walked in sandals whose soles had been cut from an automobile tire, three knives in her belt.
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art
drama
dystopia
life
play
post-apocalyptic
shakespeare
|
Emily St. John Mandel |