Anything is art if an artist says it is.
The artist performs only one part of the creative process. The onlooker completes it, and it is the onlooker who has the last word.
It's not what you see that is art. Art is the gap.
Artmaking is making the invisible, visible.
The creative act is not performed by the artist alone; the spectator brings the work in contact with the external world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualifications and thus adds his contribution to the creative act.
Destruction is also creation.
It's the viewer that makes the work.
Art has the lovely habit of ruining all artistic theories.
I don't believe in art. I believe in artists.
I have forced myself to contradict myself in order to avoid conforming to my own taste.
I am interested in ideas, not merely in visual products.
As soon as we start putting our thoughts into words and sentences everything gets distorted, language is just no damn good—I use it because I have to, but I don’t put any trust in it. We never understand each other.
The only thing that is not art is inattention
Humor is the only reason to live.
You cannot define electricity. The same can be said of art. It is a kind of inner current in a human being, or something which needs no definition.
Unless a picture shocks, it is nothing.
Art is not about itself but the attention we bring to it.
I thought to discourage aesthetics... I threw the bottlerack and the urinal in their faces and now they admire them for their aesthetic beauty.
Art is like a shipwreck; it's every man for himself.
I believe that the artist doesn't know what he does. I attach even more importance to the spectator than to the artist.
My idea was to chose an object that wouldn't attract me, either by its beauty or by its ugliness. To find a point of indifference in my looking at it, you see
I don’t care about the word ‘art’ because it has been so discredited. So I want to get rid of it. There is an unnecessary adoration of ‘art’ today.
I was interested in ideas, not merely visual products. I wanted to put painting once again at the service of the mind.
My art would be that of living: each moment, each breath is a work inscribed nowhere.
In the last analysis, the artist may shout from all the rooftops that he is a genius; he will have to wait for the verdict of posterity.
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