An art book is a museum without walls.
In ceasing to subordinate creative power to any supreme value, modern art has brought home to us the presence of that creative power throughout the whole history of art.
Always, however brutal an age may actually have been, its style transmits its music only.
Man knows that the world is not made on a human scale; and he wishes that it were.
A break in the established order is never the work of chance. It is the outcome of a man's resolve to turn life to account.
As for the outside world, the artist is confronted by what he sees; but what he sees is primarily what he looks at.
If we cannot shape our destiny there as no such thing as witchcraft.
There are not fifty ways of fighting, there's only one, and that's to win. Neither revolution nor war consists in doing what one pleases.
Our civilization ... is not devaluing its awareness of the unknowable; nor is it deifying it. It is the first civilization that has severed it from religion and superstition. In order to question it.
Just as a musician loves music and not nightingales, and a poet loves poetry and not sunsets, a painter is not primarily a person who responds to figures and landscapes. He is primarily one who loves pictures.
The true painter strives to paint what can only be seen through his world.
Surely that little pseudo-gothic church on Broadway, hidden amongst the skyscrapers, is symbolic of the age! On the whole face of the globe the civilization that has conquered it has failed to build a temple or a tomb.
History may clarify our understanding of the supreme work of art, but can never account for it completely; for the Time of art is not the same as the Time of history.
War puts its questions stupidly, peace mysteriously.
Since 1789 history has had a new perspective, revolution being a successful revolt, and revolt a revolution that has failed.
In a world in which everything is subject to the passing of time, art alone is both subject to time and yet victorious over it.
Our art culture makes no attempt to search the past for precedents, but transforms the entire past into a sequence of provisional responses to a problem that remains intact.
Seldom is a Gothic head more beautiful than when broken.
Chanel, General De Gaulle and Picasso are the three most important figures of our time.
Some pictures are in the gallery because they belong to humanity and others because they belong to the United States.
The ordinary man puts up a struggle against all that is not himself, whereas it is against himself, in a limited but all-essential field, that the artist has to battle.
Here, reality is not subordinated to painting, indeed painting seems the handmaid of reality, though we feel it tending towards a procedure which, while not at the mercy of appearances, is not yet in conflict with them.
The thrill of creation which we experience which we experience when we see a masterpiece is not unlike the feeling of the artist who created it; such a work is a fragment of the world which he has annexed and which belongs to him alone.
Could we bring ourselves to feel what the first spectators of an Egyptian statue, or a Romanesque crucifixion, felt, we would make haste to remove them from the Louvre. True, we are trying more and more to gauge the feelings of those first spectators, but without forgetting our own, and we can be contented all the more easily with the mere knowledge of the former, without experiencing them, because all we wish to do is put this knowledge to the work of art.
A large share of our art heritage is now derived from peoples whose idea of art was quite other than ours, and even from peoples to whom the very idea of art meant nothing.
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