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.
I like living, breathing better than working...my art is that of living. Each second, each breath is a work which is inscribed nowhere, which is neither visual nor cerebral, it's a sort of constant euphoria.
The most interesting thing about artists is how they live
Society takes what it wants. The artist himself does not count, because there is no actual existence for the work of art. The work of art is always based on the two poles of the onlooker and the maker, and the spark that comes from the bipolar action gives birth to something - like electricity. But the onlooker has the last word, and it is always posterity that makes the masterpiece. The artist should not concern himself with this, because it has nothing to do with him.
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
There is no solution, for there is no problem.
Aesthetic delectation is the danger to be avoided.
I've decided that art is a habit-forming drug. That's all it is, for the artist, for the collector, for anybody connected with it.
I feel shame, not for the wrong things I have done, but for the right things that I have failed to do.
What I have in mind is that art may be bad, good or indifferent, but, whatever adjective is used, we must call it art, and bad art is still art in the same way that a bad emotion is still an emotion.
The individual, man as a man, man as a brain, if you like, interests me more than what he makes, because I've noticed that most artists only repeat themselves.
This concern which interests us more than anything else: the blurring of the distinction between art and life.
If a shadow is a two-dimensional projection of the three-dimensional world, then the three-dimensional world as we know it is the projection of the four-dimensional Universe.
While all artists are not chess players, all chess players are artists.
It's true, of course, humor is very important in my life, as you know. That's the only reason for living, in fact.
My art would be that of living: each moment, each breath is a work inscribed nowhere.
I was interested in ideas, not merely visual products. I wanted to put painting once again at the service of the mind.
In my day artists wanted to be outcasts, pariahs. Now they are all integrated into society
I believe that a picture, a work of art, lives and dies just as we do.
All this twaddle, the existence of God, atheism, determinism, liberation, societies, death, etc., are pieces of a chess game called language, and they are amusing only if one does not preoccupy oneself with 'winning or losing this game of chess.
It is the spectators who make the pictures.
Do unto others as they wish, but with imagination.
The life of an artist is like the life of a monk, a lewd monk if you like, very Rabelaisian. It is an ordination.
Living is more a question of what one spends than what one makes.
Since a three-dimensional object casts a two-dimensional shadow, we should be able to imagine the unknown four-dimensional object whose shadow we are. I for my part am fascinated by the search for a one-dimensional object that casts no shadow at all.
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