I lost my mother when I was very young, and my father when I was in college.
Art has the lovely habit of ruining all artistic theories.
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.
We need to change the system. We need to overthrow, not the government, as the authorities are always accusing the Communists 'of conspiring to teach [us] to do,' but this rotten, decadent, putrid industrial capitalist system which breeds such suffering in the whited sepulcher of New York.
Idleness allows you to turn a situation from boredom to pleasure.
Dying is strange and hard if it is not our death, but a death that takes us by storm, when we've ripened none within us.
Dub music is like a long echo delay, looping through time. . . turning the rational musical order into an ocean of sensation.