In some of my new pieces, when there is nothing happening, I try to take every possible kind of expectation out of the piece. There is no beginning, development, and end. It’s just nothing. It’s just presence, pure presence.
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Failure is such a great territory to learn because if you don’t risk you will never go anywhere…So to include failure in your own process of work, it’s essential.
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Being an artist, you can make things from anything. You can make things from dust. You have this miracle, possibilities.
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Beauty doesn’t have a definition. What is important is what moves you.
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I hate when artists from my generation become tired, depressed, and complain about art being dead. It is nonsense. Art is intrinsic to the human being; it is impossible for it to die.
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You get what you get from me. I don’t hide anything. There is no dark side, because I tell it all.
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I’m not pretending.
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To me, good art has to have not just one but many lives.
—Maria Abramović, Abramović-isms (Princeton U. Press, 2024), edited by Larry Warsh
Showing posts with label hide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hide. Show all posts
6.23.2026
8.23.2015
an inch from stopping
What’s annoying about literary criticism is that it judges something that cannot change.
Nothing is more entertaining than the fate awaiting human beings who are determined to hide, to flee from others. Neither Valéry nor Rimbaud nor Lawrence would have managed to become so universally well-known so quickly had they desired such fame. Imitate them, you young people in quest of great glory. And if no one seeks you out, don’t weep because you’ve succeeded where geniuses have failed. I’ll not say another word.
A writer is always merely the ghostwriter of the child who’s already seen everything.
You always write only an inch away from stopping to speak.
A poet has no memory. But is one.
It’s not in order to be read that you write. It’s in order to be experienced, a little.
We should read a poem only in Braille. With our fingertips.
The poet is the one who accepts to be the attentive slave of what goes on beyond him.
In poetry, the poem is the least thing.
Words that open like oysters.
—Georges Perros, Paper Collage (Seagull Books, 2015), translated from the French by John Taylor.
Nothing is more entertaining than the fate awaiting human beings who are determined to hide, to flee from others. Neither Valéry nor Rimbaud nor Lawrence would have managed to become so universally well-known so quickly had they desired such fame. Imitate them, you young people in quest of great glory. And if no one seeks you out, don’t weep because you’ve succeeded where geniuses have failed. I’ll not say another word.
A writer is always merely the ghostwriter of the child who’s already seen everything.
You always write only an inch away from stopping to speak.
A poet has no memory. But is one.
It’s not in order to be read that you write. It’s in order to be experienced, a little.
We should read a poem only in Braille. With our fingertips.
The poet is the one who accepts to be the attentive slave of what goes on beyond him.
In poetry, the poem is the least thing.
Words that open like oysters.
—Georges Perros, Paper Collage (Seagull Books, 2015), translated from the French by John Taylor.
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