“In the end, reality interests me less than truth. Reality is the social aspect. Newspapers and tv are full of it. My artistic problem is not reality. It is what I call truth. Something which is more unworldly” Catherine Breillat, Director, French
via “My artistic problem is not reality. It is what I call truth.” — Art of Quotation
“I hope with this mural people will realize we have to take care of the world.” source Argentine muralist Andres Iglesias, who signs his art with the pseudonym Cobre, regarding his San Francisco mural of environmental activist Greta Thunberg
via “I hope with this mural people will realize we have to take care of the world.” — Art of Quotation
“I think I always wondered if I did exist, ’cause everything that made me kind of rich died away, dropped away early in my life. The work became how I knew I was a whole human being.” “She hit upon one of her signature methods while living on the Upper West Side of Manhattan in […]
via In Memory: “The [art] work became how I knew I was a whole human being.” — Art of Quotation
“Art comes from art: I remember going to the Matisse show and seeing how Matisse had taken one of his own paintings, worked from it and transformed it, and that had led on to the next one and the next.” Anthony Caro, sculptor
There are no rules and regulations for perfect composition. If there were we would be able to put all the information into a computer and would come out with a masterpiece. We know that’s impossible. You have to compose by the seat of your pants. Arnold Newman, photographer
via “You have to compose by the seat of your pants.” — Art of Quotation
Sometimes people ask me what it takes to be a writer. The only things you have to do, I tell them, are read constantly; write for thousands of hours; and have the masochistic ability to absorb a great deal of rejection and isolation. As it turns out, these qualities have prepared me well to deal […]
via “Our real enemy is not the virus but our response to the virus.” — Art of Quotation
Slowly our Spring creeps forward, cautiously approaching;
Ancient joy embraces us!
Reborn is not only for them, we share their body
Tree put forth rootlets, patiently grounding;
All life tests and savors all kinds of weather,
The dark nights still clasp them tightly, yet still they never forget to restart the day;
Green is the color of Go!
We say, why not?
I can recognize his voice now.
He left his odor on me. I still feel his hands caressing my body.
His soft lips pressed against mine.
Talking to him calms me.
He has managed to do the one thing no one has ever done, he makes me feel safe.
I can spend hours laying on his chest, I’ll never get tired of that.
His brown eyes and stupid smile gets me every time.
I love it when his strong dark skinned arms hug me.
His arms are covered with tattoos.
Tattoos that tell the pain he has been through.
I can stare at them for hours, like reading my favorite book.
We spend hours talking and I hate talking to people.
He gives me the confidence I need.
But I stay away, I can’t let us get too close and yet we are.
We are not afraid of each other.
It scares me that he is everything I ever wanted.
I had thought I’d be dead by now.
That’s been hard to get used to.
Now, don’t tempt me with a good time
Lost enough relishing in this missed-pain you scratched on my back
Because this isn’t like before, with a beginning, middle, and end.
It’s perpetually the middle now.
But to miss something is never to have had it in the first place
So I’m feeling lucky now I guess
Like when you bend down to tie your shoe just before hearing gunshots across the street.
Yet there are those memories, you know, that you have to scream out loud to get away from.
Since as much that’s given is as much taken
There are no excuses or any amount of apologizing to recover time given, taken, or wasted.
And though time and space is the brand of belt I wear around my pants
I’m still sorry.
No motives, just mistakes.
Children are natural mimics who act like their parents despite every effort to teach them good manners. Mark Twain
