#lor

Grey has no agenda. . . . Grey has the ability, that no other colour has, to make the invisible visible. ↗

— Roma Tearne

#color #perception #art

All colors are the friends of their neighbors and the lovers of their opposites. ↗

— Marc Chagall

#friends #lovers #neighbors #opposites #their

It's good to let God pick a man for you. We don't do so well when we pick them ourselves. They end up lipsticks in a drawer, all those wrong colors you thought looked so good in the package. ↗

— Deb Caletti

#color #god #life #lipstick #love

Hidden away behind the closed doors of aristocratic and bourgeois privilege, concealed under those ultra-respectable masks of black frock coat and veil, the green glow of corruption flickers into sight, steadies, and spreads everywhere, fostered by Lorrain's horrified and complicitous gaze. This decadent detective is at one with the criminal he pursues, acknowledging openly that the representation of corruption is one of the most pleasurable forms that corruption can take. In this enterprise, art is the mask that both exposes and conceals culpability. ↗

— Jennifer Birkett

#corruption #crime #criminal #culpability #decadence

Here, in Lorrain's poisoned little jewel of a tale (“The Man Who Made Wax Heads”) the consummate achievement of decadent art is caught in miniature. The genius of the artist entangles perpetrators and victims in a sticky web of perverse delights, in which exploitation becomes collusion, the ripples of guilt spread outward, and the real criminal slips away. In the end, responsibility is lodged firmly with the consumer, forced – he must confess – by his own perverse desires, to buy into the values of this particularly black market. ↗

— Jennifer Birkett

#consumer #crime #criminal #decadence #guilt

Before he goes into the water, a diver cannot know what he will bring back. ↗

— Max Ernst

#exploration #subconscious #art

It has seemed to me sometimes as though the Lord breathes on this poor gray ember of Creation and it turns to radiance - for a moment or a year or the span of a life. And then it sinks back into itself again, and to look at it no one would know it had anything to do with fire, or light. This is what I said in the Pentecost sermon. I have reflected on that sermon, and there is some truth in it. But the Lord is more constant and far more extravagant than it seems to imply. Wherever you turn your eyes the world can shine like transfiguration. You don't have to bring a thing to it except a little willingness to see. Only, who could have the courage to see it? ↗

— Marilynne Robinson

#courage #creation #life #lord #meaning

Tristețea persista, dar durerea aproape că dispăruse, ca și cum s-ar fi evaporat. Atinsese acel prag unde durerea care sfâșie nu mai e decât o melancolie plutitoare ce mai curând umbrește decât rănește. ↗

— Claude Roy

#intalnirea-de-pe-podul-artelor #la-traversee-du-pont-des-arts #roy #art

El însuși părea să-și fi luat, față de trecutul lui, distanța pe care o dă indiferența și, poate, ironia. Unele însemnări din carnetul său îl arăta sarcastic, fără rîcă și detașat de toate, cum știu să fie doar cei care într-adevăr au ajuns până departe. ↗

— Claude Roy

#intalnirea #intalnirea-de-pe-podul-artelor #la-traversee-du-pont-des-arts #roy #art

As my friend Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe has argued persuasively, there is an element of positivity in the visible world, and in color particularly, that totally eludes the historicity of language, with its protocols of absence and polarity. The color red, as an attribute of the world, is always there. It is something other than the absence of yellow and blue--and, thus, when that red becomes less red, it becomes more one or the other. It never exists in a linguistic condition of degradation or excess that must necessarily derive from our expectations. ↗

— Dave Hickey

#art