#bohemia

I am inspired by the appearance of a bohemian of the new millennium. ↗

— John Malkovich

#appearance #bohemian #i #i am #inspired

When I was living in New York, I had this slightly wannabe bohemian existence and took up painting, at which I'm appalling. I also bought several guitars. ↗

— Eddie Redmayne

#appalling #bohemian #bought #existence #guitars

Without sounding too pretentious, I was sort of a slave to the narrative. When the narrative cracks in, I have to go where it takes me. I had to go to the Bohemian Grove. It was the obvious end to the book. ↗

— Jon Ronson

#book #cracks #end #go #grove

They were all brilliant. They wrote books and painted pictures, and if they ever stopped talking, which I was sure they would never do, they planned to change the world. ↗

— Gloria Whelan

#bohemian #change-the-world #doing #talking #visonary

We met with the poet Frank O'Hara, who was a link between Upper and Lower Bohemia, and who worked at the Museum of Modern Art, where we had hoped to do the readings. ↗

— David Amram

#between #bohemia #frank #had #hara

I was not a collective person or a bohemian; I was an elitist. ↗

— Elia Kazan

#collective #elitist #i #person

I realised the bohemian life was not for me. I would look around at my friends, living like starving artists, and wonder, 'Where's the art?' They weren't doing anything. And there was so much interesting stuff to do, so much fun to be had... maybe I could even quit renting. ↗

— P. J. O'Rourke

#around #art #artists #bohemian #could

Long hair is considered bohemian, which may be why I grew it, but I keep it long because I love the way it feels, part cloak, part fan, part mane, part security blanket. ↗

— Marge Piercy

#blanket #bohemian #cloak #considered #fan

She did not know where her home was anymore, and this idea didn’t frighten her like it should. - Bohemian Grove ↗

— T.M. Williams

#change #empowering #fear #home #change

I dreamt that I took William Burrough’s penis and tied it up with piano wire. I hung him like a Chagall painting…In the next part J.G. Ballard swam through streets of female urine. The girls read his book Crash and then mowed him down with their Volkswagen, crushing his chest slowly against a brick wall. As he screamed in agony larger than representation can accommodate, they referred to his text and had orgasms. Later, they jumped up and down yelling, ‘You’re not a hero. You’re not a hero. You’re not. You’re not. You’re not.’ “ “How do you analyze that part of the dream, Anna?” …”I guess I’m nervous about my birthday. ↗

— Sarah Schulman

#dreams #j-g-ballard #psychoanalysis #sexism #william-burroughs