Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Ofart. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Ofart Quotes And Sayings by 91 Authors including Lewis Foreman Day,William Blake,Jonah Lehrer,George Meredith,Hokusai for you to enjoy and share.
Aesthetic culture is not the high-road to all the virtues, and, indeed, certain of the vices have been known to infest it. Neither, on the other hand, is there any special grace in ugliness. Art is only utterance. It must express something; and the vital question is, what does it express?
All pictures that's painted with sense and with thought / Are painted by madmen as sure as a groat; / For the greater the fool in the pencil more blest, / And when they are drunk they always paint best.
When we venture beyond the edge of our knowledge, all we have is art.
A dainty rogue in porcelain
Since the age of six I have had the habit of sketching forms of objects. Although from about fifty I have often published my pictorial works, before the seventieth year none is worthy.
The finest works of art are those in which there is the least matter. The closer expression comes to thought, the more the word clings to the idea and disappears, the more beautiful the work of art.
Art made by the people for the people, as a joy to the maker and the user,
I can't say enough about 'OLTL's' strong cast.
babe, it must be art
In the apprehension of art there can be a loneliness, as there so often is in its creation. This breaching of loneliness may be the secret of what an audience is, or at least one of its secrets.
To Live Is To Art
No other writer ever achieved such a direct transference of self to paper. The Book of Disquiet is the world's strangest photograph, made out of words, the only material capable of capturing the recesses of the soul it exposes. Richard Zenith, 2001 NOTES
What has reason to do with the art of painting?
Art made tongue-tied by authority.
It's a waste to not say anything with art.
After its hothouse incubation in the seventies, appropriation breathed important new life into art. This life flowered spectacularly over the decades - even if it's now close to aesthetic kudzu.
Art for art's sake.
[Lat., Ars gratia artis.]
We do not precisely enjoy liberty at the Figaro. M. de Latouche, our worthy director (ah! you should know the fellow), is always hanging over us, cutting, pruning, right or wrong, imposing upon us his whims, his aberrations, his fancies, and we have to write as he bids ...
The pig says oink.
Art take guts
- None Shall Sleep
It is sometimes forgotten how much wit there is in certain works of abstract art. There is a certain point in undergoing anguish when one encounters the comic.
Nast is an artist of uncommon abilities. His works evince originality of conception, freedom of manner, lofty appreciation of national ideas and action, and a large artistic instinct.
I am a little Jew of Vitebsk. All that I paint, all that I do, all that I am, is just the little Jew of Vitebsk.
We spend our days, each one of us, in looking for the secret of life. Well, the secret of life is in art.
In art, there is one thing which does not receive sufficient attention. The element which is left to the human will is not nearly so large as people think.
The climax of absurdity to which art may be carried when led away from nature by fashion, may be best seen in the works of Boucher ...
It's only at this age that I can say the word 'art' without flinching.
Art goes into the world unarmed, vulnerable to every quirk of fate, and it must survive only by its power to move men not to destroy it.
Art depends upon the inexactitude of sight.
The isms go, the ist dies, art remains
If you fall asleep on horseback, the horse will stop by the rock. Art is a car. Kitsch is a horse.
Art is the reasoned derangement of the senses.
An artistic endeavour comes into the world naked, unnamed, and vulnerable. Every creative effort requires the artist to wrest something from nothingness, a purposive cosmos from an apparently indifferent chaos.
serious art came from . . . . out there!Art-- Stephen King
Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use,
Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse.
Well, something must be done for May, The time is drawing nigh
To figure in the Catalogue, And woo the public eye. Something I must invent and paint; But oh my wit is not Like one of those kind substantives That answer Who and What?
It has been said that art is a tryst; for in the joy of it, maker and beholder meet.
You have to stop drawing on things!"Teena was yelling. "Paper only, okay? Not walls. Not faces. Not Mrs. Reynold's dog. Not my pants."
"I was doing the days of the week pants"
"I don't need days of the week pants!" She shouted. "And if I did I would spell Wednesday correctly!
One must be of one's time and paint what one sees.
Emotion that I experienced on first seeing the fresh paint come out of the tube ... the impression of colours strewn over the palette: of colours - alive, waiting, as yet unseen and hidden in their little tubes ...
A work of art wastes away and becomes lustreless in surroundings where it has a price but not a value. It radiates only when surrounded by love. It is bound to wilt in a world where the rich have no time and the cultivated no money. But it never harmonizes with borrowed greatness.
(Art is) the residue of vision.
Prig and philistine, Ph.D. and C.P.A., despot of English 218c and big shot of the Kiwanis Club-how much, at bottom, they both hate Art, and how hard it is to know which of them hates it the more.
The virtue of art lies in detachment, in sequestering one object from the embarrassing variety. Until one thing comes out from theconnection of things, there can be enjoyment, contemplation, but no thought.
The most beautiful pieces of art come from the ugliest situations.
Art feasts upon its maker, I
The secret of life is in art.
Come with us," I said, "and we will make you oarlock makers of men." "What?" said Joshua. "That's what they were doing when we came up. Making an oarlock. Now you see how stupid that sounds?" "It's not the same.
Make it a mind your art day!
The terrifying and edible beauty of Art Nouveau architecture.
I want to know art.
With an artist no sane man quarrels, any more than with the colour of a child's eyes.
Throughout the time in which I am working on a canvas I can feel how I am beginning to love it, with that love which is born of slow comprehension.
I'm now painting with all the elan of a Marseillais eating soup, which won't surprise you when I tell you I'm painting large sunflowers. The idea? To decorate the studio, now there's hope of Gauguin living here. I aim at a dozen panels of sunflowers in the room I've set aside for Gauguin ...
It has been said that great art is the night thought of man. It may emerge without warning from the soundless depths of the unconscious, just as supernovas may blaze up suddenly in the farther reaches of void space.
Each of us is an artist of our days; the greater our integrity and awareness, the more original and creative our time will become.
Art makes the familiar strange so that it can be freshly perceived. To do this it presents its material in unexpected, even outlandish ways: the shock of the new.
The fascinated loathing which he (Jean Lorrain) cultivated for the decadence of fin de siecle Paris has a good deal of envy and ardent desire in it; in the words of Hubert Juin, he 'loved his epoch to the point of detestation.'
(Introduction: "The Life And Career Of Jean Lorrain)
My pictures must first be beautiful, but that beauty is not enough. I strive to convey an underlying edge of anxiety, of isolation, of fear.
All art is in revolution of tyranny.
Do not make images. Everything is. Mirkka Rekola
My painting is a contest
between life and sleep.
If the real world is orange juice, then art is like orange-juice concentrate.
O thou who passest through our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.
I don't know about art but I know what I likeArt-- Lux Interior
What seems to me the highest and the most difficult achievement of Art is not to make us laugh or cry, or to rouse our lust or our anger, but to do as nature does-that is, fill us with wonderment.
It has become apparent that art can have a startling impact without really being or saying anything startling - or new. The character itself of being startling, spectacular, or upsetting has become conventionalized, part of safe good taste.
The photographic industry was the refuge of all the painters who couldn't make it, either because they had no talent or because they were too lazy to finish their studies. Hence this universal infatuation was not only characterized by blindness and stupidity, but also by vindictiveness.
Art is order, made out of the chaos of life.
Oculus Dei, the eyes of God.
We each are artists of the self, creating a collage -- a new and original work of art -- out of scraps and fragments of identifications. The people with whom we identify are, positively or negatively, always important to us. Our feelings toward them are, in some way, always intense.
Abstract art is a product of the untalented, sold by the unprincipled to the utterly bewildered.
Art is something out of the ordinary commenting on the ordinary.
But of works of art little can be said.
I was thinking that Rembrandt would have like to paint you.
Art hath an enemy called Ignorance.
None of us can ever retrieve that innocence before all theory when art knew no need to justify itself, when one did not ask of a work of art what it said because one knew what it did. From now to the end of consciousness, we are stuck with the task of defending art.
The art world is a jungle echoing to the calls of vicious jealousies and ruthless combat between dealers and collectors; but I have been walking in the jungles of business all my life, and fighting tooth and nail for pictures comes as a form of relaxation to me.
The work of art is born of the intelligence's refusal to reason the concrete. It marks the triumph of the carnal.
I looked long and carefully at the picture of a stag painted by Landseer - the style was good, and the brush was handled with fine effect; but he fails in copying Nature, without which the best work will be a failure.
Art is fueled by rebellion: the need, in some amounting to obsessions, to resist what is, to defy one's elders, even to the point of ostracism; to define oneself, and by extension one's generation, as new, novel, ungovernable.
Kitsch parodies catharsis ... It is in vain to try to draw the boundaries abstractly between aesthetic fiction and kitsch's emotional plunder. It is a poison admixed to all art; excising it is today one of art's despairing efforts ...
I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age,
Photographically lined
On the tablet of my mind
DeFrees, a dealer in nineteenth-century watercolors who for all her stiff clothes and strong perfumes was a hugger and a cuddler, with the old-ladyish habit of liking
Art is the questioning of culture
the sight of me is good for sore eyes
The death of every art form seems imminent at least once in every century; but while the very funeral arrangements go forward, some child is born who is Michelangelo, Picasso, Yeats.
How gorgeous this chess set is.' Each piece was a delicate marble fantasy of medieval warfare. The paint had long ago worn off, except for faint touches of red, in the fury of the king's eyes, on the queen's lower lip, in the bishop's robe.
The eye is the best of artists.
One day I picked up the phone to hear a middle-aged female voice asking if there were "any green Salles" left; she wanted to match Salle's art to the color scheme of her living room furniture. It's all such a joke,
They were eyes made for laughter, but not raucous yuks; rather, for the laughter of wit, of erudition, of the bon mot.
I tried to think of a witty play on Every picture tells a thousand words, but then the whole word/picture thing collapsed on me.
Space is the breath of art.
My art, my greatest art, is the skill to live within me.
We possess art lest we perish of the truth.
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.
Avant-garde art jousts with propriety, but takes care never to unseat it.
Painting is about the beauty of space and the power of containment.
The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles BY STEVEN PRESSFIELD Pressfield's