Every art, and every science reduced to a teachable form, and in like manner every action and moral choice, aims, it is thought, at some good.
Paris is the only city in the world where starving to death is still considered an art.
Oh my, but art is long and our life is fleeting.
He took his pain and turned it into something beautiful. Into something that people connect to. And that's what good music does. It speaks to you. It changes you.
Your art would follow nature, just as a pupil imitates his master; ... your art is almost God’s grandchild.
An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's.
If art can help us grieve, can help us mourn, then lean on it.
Art without emotion its like chocolate cake without sugar. It makes you gag.
This supreme quality is felt by the artist when the esthetic image is first conceived in his imagination. The mind in that mysterious instant Shelley likened beautifully to a fading coal. The instant wherein that supreme quality of beauty, the clear radiance of the esthetic image, is apprehended luminously by the mind which has been arrested by its wholeness and fascinated by its harmony is the luminous silent stasis of esthetic pleasure, a spiritual state very like to that cardiac condition which the Italian physiologist Luigi Galvani, using a phrase almost as beautiful as Shelley’s, called the enchantment of the heart.
Nature is a haunted house – but Art – is a house that tries to be haunted.
Art was not an after-school special. Art was not motivational speaking. Art was not sentimental. It had no responsibility to be hopeful or optimistic or make anyone feel better about the world. It must reflect the world in all its brutality and beauty, not in hopes of changing it but in the mean and selfish desire to not be enrolled in its lie, to not be coopted by the television dreams, to not ignore the great crimes all around us.
i am a museum full of art but you had your eyes shut