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Art is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an aesthetic end.

There is only one art, whose sole criterion is the power, the authenticity, the revelatory insight, the courage and suggestiveness with which it seeks its truth. Thus, from the standpoint of the work and its worth, it is irrelevant to which political ideas the artist as a citizen claims allegiance, which ideas he would like to serve with his work or whether he holds any such ideas at all.

If we are to change our world view, images have to change. The artist now has a very important job to do. He's not a little peripheral figure entertaining rich people; he's really needed.

Keep to yourself the final touches of your art.

The biggest problem with every art is the use of appearance to create a loftier reality.

Fortunately art is a community effort -- a small but select community living in a spiritualized world endeavoring to interpret the wars and the solitudes of the flesh.

Perpetual modernism is the measure of merit in every work of art.

Each work of art excludes the world, concentrates attention on itself. For the time it is the only thing worth doing -- to do just that; be it a sonnet, a statue, a landscape, an outline head of Caesar, or an oration. Presently we return to the sight of another that globes itself into a whole as did the first, for example, a beautiful garden; and nothing seems worth doing in life but laying out a garden.

Feminist art is not some tiny creek running off the great river of real art. It is not some crack in an otherwise flawless stone. It is, quite spectacularly I think, art which is not based on the subjugation of one half of the species. It is art which will take the great human themes -- love, death, heroism, suffering, history itself -- and render them fully human. It may also, though perhaps our imaginations are so mutilated now that we are incapable even of the ambition, introduce a new theme, one as great and as rich as those others -- should we call it "joy"?

For us artists there waits the joyous compromise through art with all that wounded or defeated us in daily life; in this way, not to evade destiny, as the ordinary people try to do, but to fulfill it in its true potential -- the imagination.

A woman is fascinated not by art but by the noise made by those in the field.