For Scary Movie 2, we had a due date and had to work fast. And though there's a lot of pressure, as artists, we just block it out. So really, the pressure comes from us. That's how the first movie happened. There was no outside pressure: we wanted to...
My room is dominated by the huge painting, which is a copy of 'The Violation' by the Belgian surrealist Paul Delvaux. The original was destroyed during the Blitz in 1940, and I commissioned an artist I know, Brigid Marlin, to make a copy from a photo...
Un romanzo non è un'allegoria” dissi verso la fine della lezione “È l'esperienza sensoriale di un altro mondo. Se non entrate in quel mondo, se non trattenete il respiro insieme ai personaggi, se non vi lasciate coinvolgere nel loro destino, no...
Life's a freaking mess. In fact, I'm going to tell Sarah we need to start a new philosophical movement: messessentialism instead of existentialism: For those who revel in the essential mess that is life. Because Gram's right, there's not one truth ev...
..."para intentar ser mejores o más que los otros y entender equivocadamente que el mundo es una carrera de competidores a quienes hay que vencer sin saber que no tienen nada que demostrar a nadie, que solo la valía se la da uno mismo en tanto y cu...
Forse sapevano, un po' meglio degli altri, decifrare, o magari suscitare, questi segni favorevoli. Le loro orecchie, le loro dita, il loro palato, come se fossero stati costantemente all'erta, aspettavano solo questi istanti propizi, scatenabili con ...
What did I discover during my solo—besides learning to unwrap my energy bar ahead of time? That you ask yourself a lot of questions when you're alone on a bike for that long. One question more than others: Why the heck am I doing this? When I was d...
Si él estuviera en mi lugar y yo en el suyo, aunque le odiara con un odio que convirtiera mi vida en hiel, nunca hubiera levantado la mano contra él. [...] nunca le hubiera echado de su compañía, mientras ella la deseara. En el momento en que el ...
Mi cuarto esta oscuro, y Etienne envuelve sus brazos a mi alrededor. Escuchamos a la cantante de ópera en un silencio tranquilo. Estoy sorprendida por lo mucho que extrañare Francia. Atlanta fue casa por casi diesiocho años e incluso cuando solo h...
Cuando oración, rituales y vida ascética son solo los medios para la autoindulgencia, son más dañinos que beneficiosos. Esto resulta muy obvio para la gente hoy en día, cuando es comúnmente reconocido que las fijaciones no son lo mismo que las ...
[first title card] Title card/crawl: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... Title card/crawl: Luke Skywalker has returned to his home planet of Tatooine in an attempt to rescue his friend Han Solo from the clutches of the vile gangster Jabba th...
A big enough artist, I say, can eat anything, must eat everything and then alchemize it. Only the feeble writer is afraid of expansion.
There are two types of optimism, real optimism and fake, cowardly optimism. Real optimism sees the Valley of Dry Bones and says, ‘These bones will rise!’ Fake, cowardly optimism says, ‘I like these bones. Dry bones are so very artistic to look ...
My parents never projected their dreams onto me. If they hoped I would be a great pitcher, or political figure, or artist (no chance), they never told me about it. Their view of parenting was to offer love and encourage me to chart my own path.
As an artist you organize your life so that you get a chance to paint, a window of time, but that's no guarantee you'll create anything worth all your effort. You're always haunt by the idea you're wasting your life.
... but now men who could work preferred to beg, and the artists forgot that their calling was noble and became imitators instead of creators, charging exorbitant sums for the rubbish they churned out with one eye closed.
Notwithstanding the memories of slavery, and in the face poverty, ignorance, terrorism, and subjugation still deeply woven into their lives, the embittered past of blacks was taken onto a much higher plane of intellectual and artistic consideration d...
A career must be husbanded. Care must be taken. Everyday must bring some small bit of progress. How would an artist with any self-worth act? Act that way.
Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him.
„...And he doesn't like you to call him Mr. McStabby, you know." "Have you ever seen him cutting up that meat? He is like an artist with slicing. And that knife is as long as my arm. Mr. McStabby it is.
The genuine artist, Harris is saying, finds reality in a point of identity between subject and object, a point at which the created world and the world that is really there become the same thing. [p.211]
