Christmas began in the heart of God. It is complete only when it reaches the heart of man.Why wait for a call when you have a command?
Popular in our time, unpopular in his. So runs the stereotype of rejected genius.
A Gustave Courbet portrait of a trout has more death in it than Rubens could get in a whole Crucifixion.
One gets tired of the role critics are supposed to have in this culture: It's like being the piano player in a whorehouse; you don't have any control over the action going on upstairs.
On the whole, money does artists much more good than harm. The idea that one benefits from cold water, crusts and debt collectors is now almost extinct, like belief in the reformatory power of flogging.
We have entered a period of intolerance which combines, as it sometimes does in America, with a sugary taste for euphemism. This conjunction fosters events that go beyond the wildest dream of satire- if satire existed in America anymore; perhaps the reason for its weakness is that reality has superseded it.
The greater the artist, the greater the doubt.
Perhaps the rhinos and she-crocodiles whose gyrations between Mortimer's and East Hampton gives us our vision of social eminence today are content to entrust their faces to Andy Warhol's mingily cosmetic Polaroidising, but one would bet they would rather go to Sargent.
A determined soul will do more with a rusty monkey wrench than a loafer will accomplish with all the tools in a machine shop.
Landscape is to American painting what sex and psychoanalysis are to the American novel.
Last Update: 24 September 2022
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