‘Cubism’ Picasso
‘cubism’ picasso
‘cubism’ unique
‘cubism’ genius
‘cubism’ creativity
‘cubism’ individuality
‘cubism’ spontaneity
generating
provoking
ani mating
impulses
internalizes
influen ces
it is us?
or it is trying too hard?
or a mind merges?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Cubic Picasso Cubism
'Cubism quanta measureless'
is another reality perception phrase
reality surreal continues voyages
was not ‘'Cubism' Picasso’ written
reflecting upon our earlier conversation?
does not our regular discussion upon art
all realities before between after
not enrich perceptive worlds thoughts art
does not Picasso emotion inflict our souls?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I think music has gone through a period of something very severe, rather radical, rather the way painting did with cubism.
quote by Harrison Birtwistle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Symbolist Blood Cubism's
tone deaf paint strokes
powerfully counting skeletons
symbolist blood cubism's
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Cubism is still the most important art movement for the same reason that John D. is still the most important Rockefeller.
quote by Brad Holland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetic Cubism Slices
splitting images
is poetic cubism slices
shifting images
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Cubism is like standing at a certain point on a mountain and looking around. If you go higher, things will look different; if you go lower, again they will look different. It is a point of view.
quote by Jacques Lipchitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Picasso Imaginable Thing...
two faces of a woman 7: 32 AM
ah 7: 32 AM
picasso 7: 32 AM
mooo 7: 32 AM
ah 7: 33 AM
is that what it is 7: 33 AM
pain and happiness? 7: 33 AM
wa ko kabalo ana 7: 33 AM
picasso has a painting of a woman with two faces 7: 33 AM
i hav seen picasso's work 7: 33 AM
havent you seen it? 7: 33 AM
never realized that 7: 33 AM
yes cubism 7: 33 AM
he explained that to me while we were in barcelona spain 7: 34 AM
(har har har) 7: 34 AM
hahahha 7: 34 AM
good one 7: 34 AM
poor bald picasso 7: 34 AM
travel jud ang mind 7: 34 AM
still having lots of erections despite his ugly legs 7: 34 AM
mao ba? 7: 35 AM
hoe did u know that/ 7: 35 AM
how 7: 35 AM
the indefatigable picasso 7: 35 AM
wow 7: 35 AM
we were in the brothels of paris with alexander pope 7: 35 AM
hahaah 7: 35 AM
mahilig jud ang artist no 7: 35 AM
honestly, i have the book 7: 35 AM
good 7: 36 AM
the writers in europe sometimes find themselved in reunion and communion with whores and drink red whores beer together 7: 36 AM
yes! Edgar Degas too 7: 37 AM
my fav
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inside out
seeing things inside out
in highly abstracted geometric forms
analytical cubism that sucked an object in
hypostasis swallowed standing shattered
within a ritual of an epoch
examining its own perspective stands
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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How Bizarre Picasso's Guernica
had a strange bizarre idea
an explosive expression of force
a kind of Kung Fu high ya
to write split images
slicing Picasso's Guernica
are ambitious goals
‘Counting Skeletons
Maze Masterpiece War' cannon fodders
expendable human wave attacks
counting skeletons
military civilians animals
far too complex figures
for mind dumb numb critics
expecting classical critiques
lacking Geneva Conventions
tone deaf paint strokes
powerfully counting skeletons
symbolist blood cubism's
splitting images
is poetic cubism slices
shifting images
lenses
original concepts
shifts
heightened are purifications
lenses through looking glass
quality intensity frequencies
window frame shattered glass
reflects no light dust disembowels
nail polish veneer shade layers
behold I am the light sparks
cast upon yonder wall outpourings
what colours abuses decays?
images screaming ghosts
paper mache bull's horns
tearing apart peace dreams
bits of newspapers
blue shadings
ripe purple bruises
a red tear streams
from screaming eye woman's
nightmare deletes
colours
so must Picasso's
images
final phases
defeat reeks
flesh decays
monochrome metal monsters
political black white gray tones
felt impact descent bomb blasts
evokes deaths
flesh sufferings
war insanities
lick wounds
impaled oozing sacrifices
histories pages
poem by Terence George Craddock
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My Poor King In His Shanties Who Applies For A Coffin Maker?
No need a scaffolding, a studio
for my new painting and a paint brush
paint or a big canvas?
I use my thumb for shading,
on a throw away news paper
with few pastels that belongs to my grandson
I draw my new king with a big moustache
and a dead fly on his chin as a birth mark?
A cigarette butt fitted to his mouth
tittled as 'My poor King in his shanties
who applies for a coffin maker? '
He reads of Picasso, George Braque
Modiglianni & Van Gogh?
I was not influenced by Cubism or Surrealism
Capitalism or Socialism
But only Humanism with a mug of cheap Milwaukee bitter Beer?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Buddha
Buddha's thoughts found its roots at the
Bodhi tree, budded and bloomed into
A thousand flowers blown to all corners
Of the world converting myriad thoughts of
Adherents repainting
The fabric of religions analoguous
To artists who style the world
In shades of Impressionism, Cubism,
Surrealism and Realism.
Through Zen, a meditation discipline
Where masters could even tell through his ears
Which hand a disciple uses in knocking a door,
Ramayana where spirits of the heavens crowd
The world to help sin-ladened souls escape
The grim cycles of reincarnations;
Fate of souls also fooled by the movement
Of the universe spawning superstitions.
And Theravada where each being sanctions
His own hell or heaven through deeds.
The Buddha sees and listens to all in quiet repose
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Rumination Haj
Caught in an expressive cul-de-sac,
all imagery goes down the tube
iconoclastically, with lack
of space that curves when artists cube,
on a rumination haj,
searching an interior Mecca
thoughts collected as collage,
minimally like a Necker.
David Hadjou reviews John Adams’s Hallelujah Junction (“Music Lessons: A memoir by the composer John Adams is a collage of memory criticism, theory and ruminations on creativity, ” NYT Book Review, October 26,2008) :
Commonly mistaken for a minimalist, Adams has employed the minimalist aesthetic primarily as a point of departure. He recognized fairly early that “minimalism as a governing aesthetic could and would rapidly exhaust itself, ” as he writes here. “Like Cubism in painting, it was a radically new idea, but its reductive worldview would soon leave its practitioners caught in an expressive cul-de-sac.” Adams’s importance as a composer is rooted not so much in his having done anything new, but, rather, in his having done very well the things he has done: operas (“Nixon in China” and “The Death of Klinghoffer, ” both staged by Peter Sellars) , symphonic choral works (“On the Transmigration of Souls, ” an elegy to the victims of the Sept.11 attacks, which won the Pulitzer Prize for music in 2003) , piano pieces and a dozen or so other major compositions of various kinds. His music is minimal in the sense that Adams employs as few materials as necessary, rather than as few as possible, though he strives for and tends to achieve a maximalism of effect. With “Hallelujah Junction, ” Adams has put in prose an argument against the ideology of aesthetic continuum, a case that his music has always articulated eloquently by example. “That particular continuum I found ridiculously exclusive, being founded on a kind of Darwinian view of stylistic evolution, ” he argues. If a composition “didn’t in some way advance the evolution of the language, yielding progress either by a technological innovation or in the increasing complexity of the discourse, it was not even worth discussing.” Who cares? John Adams. And, so, now do we.
10/26/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Way out over Copland's Appalachian Springs
We dragged the slopes to our feet.
On the summit, we burnt our clothes
for wood and there shuffled our feet
in the hush of the falling snow.
We had come out of the scuffed grass.
With one look back in unbelief
exhuming the long trek
the silent keen
puffing through blubbery fingers.
We pulled the hoofed trail through
the trapdoor of our unchained links
foisting for new heights.
Beyond the Appalachian Mountains
the hanging fern on pine dripped snow
on moles burrowing in gashed hollows.
We paused. In that doubtful moment
we rued the climb, succumbing to the assault
upon this stilled millennia's eerie silence.
All that time the swivelling blizzards raged
shifting soil, eroding avalanches.
Below, burgeoning customs
unmaned the silent dignity of bisons.
All bore testimony to a familiar preparation.
And then, suddenly before our eyes
the solemn ground rose with the breeze
the spangled map changing to the quick:
Chicago Pittsburgh Kansas City
wild barnyards dry-coughing, pop-corning garages
horrent timber ribbed the coasting steamboats
the linoleum walls
the mild Indian piqued he was
by the mahogany cubism of our speech.
We wondered if coming so far
only mattered, we would be content
to build a fire, here and now
and unpack our horses.
We saw little need to go on.
One night the summit might open
up and swallow us all or old age
would come upon us like a lonely neighbour
on a pretext to the door.
[© T.Wignesan 1964 - London, U.K., from the collection: tell them i'm gone,1983; published in Fire Readings (A Collection of Contemporary Writing from the Shakespeare & Company Fire Benefit Readings) . Paris-Boston: Frank Books,1991, pp.36-37.]
poem by T. Wignesan
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Picasso Is...
Picasso is...
Picasso transcends mortality.
Picasso is fury artistic dynamics in motion.
Picasso always moving in styles
to new levels of artistic perception
through seen seam fractures
of shift broken molten imagery.
Picasso is walking through walls.
Picasso is rebirth in conception.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Last Picasso
Words and music by neil diamond
The last picasso, the last picasso was just acquired by some old museum, and don quixote, well don quixote the old mans rhyme has lost its reason; which only reminds me have I remembered to say that without you this life of plenty, would seem so empty, the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. the last picasso, the last picasso may gather dust amid the ruins, and don quixote, well don quixote may no longer make his wishful tunes; but I still have you and I will have you when evrything else is gone and done with. well be like one with the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--we we can sigh me oh me oh me oh we can sign. oh, me and you.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What might be taken for a precocious genius is the genius of childhood. When the child grows up, it disappears without a trace. It may happen that this boy will become a real painter some day, or even a great painter. But then he will have to begin everything again, from zero.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good taste is the enemy of creativity.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The chief enemy of creativity is ""good"" sense.
quote by Pablo Picasso
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I view my role more as trying to set up an environment where the personalities, creativity and individuality of all the different employees come out and can shine.
quote by Tony Hsieh
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Creativity is not merely the innocent spontaneity of our youth and childhood; it must also be married to the passion of the adult human being, which is a passion to live beyond one's death.