If Art relates itself to an Object, it becomes descriptive, divisionist, literary.
If I have one vanity wish, it would be to direct. It's the only thing I haven't done yet that I would like to.
Must we be put to shame by much smaller and poorer countries, by Ireland, France, Austria or Sweden, who have understood that a nation's support of its arts is a matter of both national pride and cultural survival?
No doubt unity is something to be desired, to be striven for, but it cannot be willed into being by mere declarations.
Epistemology is the study of knowledge. By what conduit do we know what we know?
After the advent of the written word, the masses who could not - or were not permitted to - read, were given sermons by the few who could.
As an artist I have an even more abiding interest in the compact between the Arts and Government.
O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying! And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying.
Rashness succeeds often, still more often fails.
Just the way LA is laid out - 30 miles of disparate neighborhoods - adds to the loneliness of the characters. There's a lot more space to feel isolated in. In Los Angeles, you have to meet the person, then walk out separately to your own cars, and follow the person to their neighborhood, and then pray that street parking isn't going to mess things up.
Melancholy and utopia are heads and tails of the same coin.