It is the work of art to conceal art, and of criticism to reveal it again.
Religion, art, taste, and other delusions.
If you want realism, you have to make a few things up.
The work of art is not the object, and not the experience of the object: it is the experience of having experienced it.
If orchestral performances were movies, the instrumentalists would be celebrated, the conductor credited, and the composer unmentioned.
Those who say they don’t believe in love, or art, or politics, or God, always believe acutely, piercingly, in their disbelief.
The demand for revelation has not slackened; the churches have merely lost their monopoly.
Ugliness, incompetence, immaturity: these have become ideologies — no longer failures but ends in themselves.
Artists should be judged by their best work. Architects do not have this luxury.
For most of history it was prohibited for the mass of men to express themselves: then, briefly, it was permitted: now it is required.
We need not approve of the audience to crave its approval.