We fall forward to succeed.
Art has absolutely no existence as veracity, as truth.
Art is like a shipwreck; it's every man for himself.
Art is not about itself but the attention we bring to it.
I have drawn people's attention to the fact that art is a mirage. A mirage, just like the oasis that appears in the desert. It is very beautiful, until the moment when you die of thirst, obviously. But we do not die of thirst in the field of art. The mirage has substance.
To all appearances the artist acts like a mediumistic being who, from the labyrinth beyond time and space, seeks his way out to a clearing. If we give the attributes of a medium to the artist, we must then deny him the state of consciousness on the aesthetic plane about what he is doing or why he is doing it. All this decisions in the artistic execution of the work rest with pure intuition and cannot be translated into a self-analysis, spoken or written, or even thought out.
I believe that a picture, a work of art, lives and dies just as we do.
Devil, do you dare approach me? and do you not fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?
The lips on my upper right bicep are my girlfriend's lips. She has the most amazing lips, and I wanted to carry them around with me everywhere I go, considering I can't carry her lips physically with me. So I decided to place them in a discreet location, such as the inside part of my bicep.
Perhaps in nearly every joy, as certainly in every pleasure, cruelty has its place.
We have a lot of women on the staff, obviously. It's a predominantly female writing staff and we hire the best people. It's not like we go we need more women or we need four women directing.