Elaine Scarry, On Beauty and Being Just:
“And surely what we should wish is a world where the vulnerability of the beholder is equal to or greater than the vulnerability of the person beheld, a world where the pleasure-filled tumult of staring is a prelude to acts that will add to the beauty already in the world—acts like making a poem, or a divine comedy; or acts like repairing an injury or a social injustice.”
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“The beautiful, almost without any effort of our own, acquaints us with the mental event of conviction, and so pleasurable a mental state is this that ever afterwards one is willing to labor, struggle, wrestle with the world to locate enduring sources of conviction—to locate what is true. Both in the account that assumes the existence of the immortal realm and in the account that assumes the nonexistence of the immortal realm, beauty is a starting place for education.”
Agnes Martin, “The current of the river of life moves us,” from Paintings, Writings, Remembrances by Arne Glimcher
“By awareness of life we are inspired to live.
Life is consciousness of life itself.
The measure of your life is the amount of beauty and happiness of which you are aware.
The life of an artist is a very good opportunity for life.”
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“The great and fatal pitfall in the art field and in life is dependence on the intellect rather than inspiration.
Dependence on intellect means a consideration of observed facts and deductions from observation as a guide in life.
Dependence on inspiration means dependence on consciousness, a growing consciousness that develops from awareness of beauty and happiness.
To live and work by inspiration you have to stop thinking.”
Renata Adler, Pitch Dark:
“Look, the sun is a sort of bribe, you know, and so is a heavy thunderstorm or a snowfall. So is a dawn, though not I think a sunset. So is a warm bath or a shower, and a sound sleep. Bribes all, in the conspiracy of everything to continue to exist.”
Etel Adnan, The Cost for Love We Are Not Willing to Pay:
On seeing Venus de Milo: “All my senses awoke simultaneously. I lost my mind over her glacial yet dangerous beauty. It became an initiation. An opening into my own being. I spent this night of revelation with ‘her’ in the most profound and meaningful solitude I have ever experienced. It was wintertime, but I spent the night perspiring. I closed my eyes and pressed my face in the pillow. I was burning with passion. I was crying. My body was demanding her presence. I was making love all by myself, and my imagination was burning.”