Seldom Is A Gothic Head

Our Characteristic Response To The Mutilated Statue, The Bronze Dug Up From The Earth, Is Revealing. It Is Not That We Prefer Time-worn Bas-reliefs, Or Rusted Statuettes As Such, Nor Is It The Vestiges Of Death That Grip Us In Them, But Those Of Life. Mutilation Is The Scar Left By The Struggle With Time, And A Reminder Of It - Time Which Is As Much A Part Of Ancient Works Of Art As The Material They Are Made Of, And Thrusts Up Through The Fissures, From A Dark Underworld, Where All Is At Once Chaos And Determinism.

Our Art Culture Makes No Attempt To Search The Past For Precedents, But Transforms The Entire Past Into A Sequence Of Provisional Responses To A Problem That Remains Intact.

Some Pictures Are In The Gallery Because They Belong To Humanity And Others Because They Belong To The United States.

The Only Domain Where The Divine Is Visible Is That Of Art, Whatever Name We Choose To Call It.

The Thrill Of Creation Which We Experience Which We Experience When We See A Masterpiece Is Not Unlike The Feeling Of The Artist Who Created It; Such A Work Is A Fragment Of The World Which He Has Annexed And Which Belongs To Him Alone.