Atelier Quotes

There are all sorts of barriers out there that you never even notice unless they affect you personally.

Rather than saying you have no idea what to do…you’re asking what you can do to make it work. That’s a big step forward. Good job.

Benford’s office looked like the atelier

Why does everyone else just assume we all see the world the same way?!

When you’re anxious to learn something and need to get better as quickly as possible…the solution is to make it part of your daily life. After all, there’s no greater teacher than life itself.

[If] it were possible to watch composing in the same way that one can watch painting, if composers could have _ateliers_ as did painters, then it would be clear how superfluous the music theorist is and how he is just as harmful as the art academies.

I wanted to love this piano. I wanted to invite music back into my life.

Clamboring over building detritus was not the lifestyle Karl Lagerfeld had in mind for this sweet little powder-blue suit. As he oversaw the hand stitching in his atelier he had probably imagined the suit living a life of tea parties and lunches with the girls at the Ivy

There’s nothing I hate more…than adults who treat kids like things instead of people.

I hate when people make decisions because ‘that’s just the way things are’!

Is an athlete always an athlete, even from mere birth? What about astronauts? Or pop stars? You can’t know what you’re going to be until you grow up, right? What about witches? Is it the same for them?

A woman must choose her friends and lovers wisely, for both can become like a bad stepmother and rotten stepsisters. In the case of our lovers, we often invest them with the power of a great Mage - a great magician. This is easy to do , for if we become truly intimate, it dislike unlocking a lead crystal atelier, a magic one, or so it feels to us. A lover can engender and/or destroy even our most durable connections to our own cycle and ideas. The destructive lover must be avoided. A better sort of lover is one finely wrought of strong psychic muscle and tender flesh. For Wild Woman it also helps if the lover is just a bit psychic too, a person who can "see into" her heart.

The effect is captivating as all of the tones mix, like a watercolor with hues swirled together, and lovely carrying notes long after the fingers are lifted from the keys.

There’s a lot to learn from failure. Interpreted well, it brings sustenance.

Life is a river,' he once told me, 'and we all have to find a boat that floats.

One's ideas are just as crucial to magic as one's skill wit the pen.

For someone who refuses to listen, you sure do like to talk.

I couldn’t stand it if I had to stay the way I am now…living with all the things I’m still unable to do.

Things merely heard and read are quickly lost…but those understood and spoken aloud remain clearly etched in mind. Understanding opens the way to mastery.

Wait. She’s operating on the assumption that she’s going to fail?!

It seems to me the utmost folly for a woman at the head of a household, and the mother of children, to spend in an atelier days which would be better employed contriving for the comfort of her family.

Magic exists to make people happy.

Make magic…part of everyday life…

I’m sick of the way things are. I’m sick of having to give up on my dreams. I’m sick of not being allowed to try.

Refusal to accommodate differences is not an admirable quality of witch society.

You mustn’t say that hope is lost. There is always hope.

So please…don’t call it a waste of time. It means something to someone even if not to you.

Mankind is truly terrifying. As is the fact that so few of us acknowledge…how easily terrifying things may come to pass.

Every mind is different, containing an accumulation of matters unique to each person. Each mind is that person’s knowledge, experience, their past—their very life itself!

If you feel impatient and want to learn quickly, the best thing you can do is to just live life! There's not better teacher than life itself.

Form one essential vision when you start your drawing that will be evident upon completion

Draw so that you may remember. Remember so that you may use. The power you imbue yourself thus…will prove an ally that never betrays.

An artwork doesn't become a masterpiece the moment it's finished in the atelier. It comes from the praise and critique of the vast numbers of people who've seen it. After receiving such influence, it then starts becoming a piece that art history can't ignore at that point.

And at a fruit boutique called Atelier du Soleil, one beautifully proportioned mango was selling for the equivalent of one hundred dollars. "That's not your average supermarket mango," one Tokyo fruit connoisseur told me. "That mango will change your mind forever about mangoes. That mango will blow your damn mind!

Mr. Pontellier had been a rather courteous husband so long as he met a certain tacit submissiveness in his wife. But her new and unexpected line of conduct completely bewildered him. It shocked him. Then her absolute disregard for her duties as a wife angered him. When Mr. Pontellier became rude, Edna grew insolent. She had resolved never to take another step backward. "It seems to me the utmost folly for a woman at the head of a household, and the mother of children, to spend in an atelier days which would be better employed contriving for the comfort of her family.

The tower does not contain an answer for everyone.” “But there is hope.” There was a time when I would have liked to hear those words. There is hope. Even if finding it…sometimes means first sinking into the darkest depths of the sea.

I know. The principles are supposed to be absolute. But I’m not sure if they’re right anymore. It seems to me that really…it’s the people who desperately need the world to change…who are the most deserving of the power to make it happen.

Upon first picking up the pen, did you not learn that magic is no miracle? That it is not meant to grant any wish your heart desires?

It sure is tricky trying to foresee every possible scenario…

People who don’t have a clue sure do like to talk as if they do.

Are you done hating yourself?” “Um…I, uh…yeah. A little bit anyway.” “Good. So quit deciding things are impossible. There’s nothing wrong with you at all.

Even the greatest of witches is helpless in the grip of a fluffy bed…

I didn’t want to fall asleep. It’s just that weird whenever I decide it’s time to buckle down and study, I suddenly feel so tired…

Remember that it is your goal to not create a photographic likeness, but an emotional accuracy.

Just look and see. Find the shape the problem and difficulties around you take. Stare at them head on, and you’ll find endless ways to solve them. There’s an answer waiting to be fashioned. Every time.

27 July Rage-thought to live by: in The General, Buster gets so annoyed at his girlfriend's stupidity for stoking the engine with tiny pieces of wood, he facetiously gives her little toothpicks - which she dutifully feeds into the fire. He then stares at her in disbelief, then delights in her anyway and leaps at her with a kiss. Sweet axiom!

I have failures all the time. Every day of my life.

Let’s change the things we can! That’s what magic is. It’s the power to alter the little slice of world around us…for better or worse.

Everybody experiences things a little differently.

Behold the terror of sleep deprivation.

Skimp on sleep as a kid, and you’re in for a world of problems as an adult.

We’ve all got things we’re capable of and things we’re not. Just focus on the things you can do. That’s enough.

All great discoveries are born of adversity.

Going somewhere else won’t change the fact that I always mess up.

I’m not cut out for this!! I don’t have the talent or courage or confidence or competence or any special skills. I’ve got nothing!

Why do things always end up like this for me? You said you wanted to be your own person. If I could, I’d find a way to be anyone else.

I’m done saying things are impossible! I promised myself that!

What though is happiness if not the overcoming of obstacles?

If I start thinking about all the things I have to get done, the list will never end.

Eccentricity is not the synonym for elegance.

Ich fuhr in das Atelier des modernen Schneiders. Mit einem Blumenstrauß drang ich vor, wie mit einer gezückten Waffe.

Motionless, he held the final chord for a long moment and we felt—I could almost say watched—the harmony rise into the light-filled cold of the atelier.

None of them are laughing or making fun of me. I’m the only one berating myself. Change the way I do things…I get it now. The only one casting a curse on me…is me. My own reflection.

I wanted to prove that I could do it…and that I wasn’t scared. Those feelings came from within. I had to show myself that I could beat my problems…with my own magic and find some shred of hope.

That stuff about people who blame Fate…being the ones to break free of it. Is it true? It makes sense, right? You’ve got to believe the chains of Fate exist in order to have something to grab onto and throw off.

We're a bunch of intellectuals who sit in the Atelier or in the Grillon and talk to each other. And when we write, we write for each other. We have absolutely no connection with the people.The people don't know we exist.

The things that make you who you are never disappear. The things you’re good at…the heavy thoughts that weigh on you…and the ways you make up for your weaknesses. All of them are forever with you. By trying to protect myself…I was holding myself back.

I am Banjo Telemark. I am an Ambiguitionest that is to say a maker and vendor of bespoke bewilderment. My atelier is the world and in my atelier nothing is solid and every truth you think you know is also a lie. I am Banjo Telemark. Let me show you my art.

I know what it’s like to have your whole future closed off…because of something you can’t do a thing about. It’s awful. It leaves you feeling so powerless.” “Yeah. I get it. I know that feeling too. And I remember…how badly I wished that things could change.

The piano became a kind of flying carpet by which I could travel to an entirely different place, and I would leave the room with the half-dazed sensibility that children sometimes show when they have discovered a new and agreeable and utterly private world of their own.

We’ve been coming up with ideas for three days. My brain’s all out of storms!

Even if I want to change the world, and start where I can… what we can do still isn’t very much, is it?

The right way, using the right spell, to find the right answer…and if you stray at all, you’re doing it wrong. This is exactly the kind of thing I hate the most.

There’s no one way you have to do things.

It’s awful when there’s something you want to do but can’t. I know that feeling.

There may be only one road…but the spells each of us cast here will differ. We each find our very own way to walk our very own path. And we do it by facing challenges like these.

I know there are things that I can’t do. But I was okay with that. I had to be. I was scared.

Just wait! I’m gonna keep getting better at not knowing stuff!” “I think you mean ‘get better at figuring stuff out.

What is fate if not attraction?

I didn’t want to fall asleep. It’s just that whenever I decide it’s time to buckle down and study, I suddenly feel so tired…

the biggest of musical surges!! The euphoria!! The smouldering!! The energy!! The villains!! The shameless exploitation of beauty!!

nostalgia for the present, George would call it.

On ne fait pas de musique contre quelqu’un” (“One does not make music against someone else”).

Florence is actually a very fateful city. Often one has a sense of Florence answering one back, if you know what I mean.

Sentimentality, especially in the guise of idealism, not only breeds cynicism but also makes it the necessary foil sometimes.

Music isn’t music unless we share it with others,” she told me, but even then that sentiment seemed unsatisfactory to me.

emerged with a shared sense of the exultation that great music can bring.

the exuberance of the moment drowning out all other sensations but that of music’s delicious momentum.

What allowed a person sitting in front of this strange giant to call forth beautiful sounds just by moving his fingers up and down?

I sat down on the bench and started playing, instantly lost in the perfection of the moment; I was elsewhere.

Remember, too, that the trees for the wood that was used to build this piano were most likely planted in the late sixteenth century.

Natural movement is riskier,” he acknowledged, “but life is risky and music is an element of life, so it is risky, too!

It’s a world with its own traditions and lore, some of which are hidden within pianos themselves.

Etre patient avec soi-même!” (“Be patient with yourself!”)

a “mélomane,” the French word for music lover;

The teaching of music in France is taken very seriously; while admirable enough in itself, very often it veers toward an overly formal and academic approach.

When something doesn't work... think about why it didn't! In fact, even when things do work, stop to consider why! You've gotta be proactive in your practice!

For the longest time, I wished to be somebody else. Now I just want to be me again.

Religions at least give hope; that’s something, even if it’s based on dreams. But those who promise heaven here on earth, whether it’s Communists or Masons, they’re the worst of the worst.

I particularly liked the rationale it advanced for renouncing the tradition of competitive concours: “On ne fait pas de musique contre quelqu’un” (“One does not make music against someone else”).

Just look... and see... Find the shape the problems and difficulties around you take. Stare at them head on, and you'll find endless ways to solve them. There's an answer waiting to be fashioned. Every time...

Think of a full-size harp, the kind used in orchestras. Pivot it mentally from the vertical, as it normally stands, to the horizontal and put it in a box shaped to its frame. There you have the shape of the grand piano.

What promotes the power and pleasure of learning with and through materials? How can an atelier inspire and sustain creative, innovative thinking and learning throughout the school community? What kind of organization and interconnections among materials, spaces, people, and ideas do we need to invent in our North American context for poetic, expressive languages to flourish and to make the teaching and learning experience rich and whole?

When an answer is not forth-coming…we can rely on the wisdom contained here to find a different way. So long as you don’t stop imagining…you’ll be able to produce any number of new answers. That is the essence of magic.

Quelquefois aussi, figurait un monsieur, aristocrate humble d’allures, disant des choses plébéiennes, et qui ne s’était pas lavé les mains pour les faire paraître calleuses. Un patriote le reconnaissait, les plus vertueux le houspillaient ; et il sortait la rage dans l’âme. On devait, par affectation de bon sens, dénigrer toujours les avocats, et servir le plus souvent possible ces locutions : » apporter sa pierre à l’édifice, - problème social, - atelier. »

Val de Grâce is a large late Renaissance church that is unusual for Paris; its exuberant carvings and animated façade are more typical of Rome, and the most beautiful dome in the city graces its undulating mass of light yellow stone.

The things that make you who you are never disappear. The things you’re good at…the heavy thoughts that way on you…and the ways you make up for your weaknesses. All of them are forever with you. By trying to protect myself…I was holding myself back.

What if…no matter how hard I try and try and try…my work never pays off? What if I’m never able to save anyone? I worry that when my hands fail to find hope—when they end up grasping at thin air…that I just might begin reaching for things I shouldn’t.

Upstate New York was particularly beautiful this fall, its blend of gold and orange and red an aesthetically lovely reminder that Christmas was not all that far away. Soon this brisk refreshing air would turn charmingly chilly, and the narrow road I was driving on would be covered by a soft white blanket. All those who longed for the sentimental things left behind by far too many in society would then have their moment to bask in the sweet nostalgia of what they knew in their hearts were better times.

Perhaps a tuberose, she thought. Very pervasive, but not headachy. Her fingers lingered for a moment over her bottle of Fracas. She adored the classic punchy floral, but it was one of her mother's favorites, so not conducive to a good night's sleep either. Not after that phone call earlier. Maybe something woody? The black tea, leather and tobacco in Atelier Cologne's Oolang Infini would be deep enough to drown out Digger's pungent expulsion, yet subtle enough to sleep on. But no, the guaiac wood in it reminded her too much of old-fashioned coal-tar soap, which was David's smell.

Becoming a draftsman takes years of focused application and self-discipline. It is tempting to reduce the mastery of drawing to the completion of a few exercises. However, drawing would not have challenged and fascinated the many brilliant minds found in art history if it could have been mastered so easily. Unfortunately, there are no shortcuts to greatness; becoming a master artist takes a lifetime of sustained effort, study, and focus. The atelier curriculum points the way to the goal of mastery, but it is the diligent personal application of these principles over time that determines success.

Europeans are always debating how much refugees will contribute; they claim to want the economically beneficial kind, the “good” immigrants. And yet, they welcome only those with a foot in the grave. Show any agency or savvy or industry before you left your home, and you’re done. People begin imagining you scheming to get out just to get rich off an idea (or a surgery or an atelier). They consider the surgery or atelier that doesn’t yet exist as property stolen from them. The minute you arrive, though, even if you did have a foot in the grave, god help you if you need social services for a while.

finalement, éperdu d'amour et au comble de la frénésie érotique, je m'assis dans l'herbe et j'enlevai un de mes souliers en caoutchouc. — Je vais le manger pour toi, si tu veux. Si elle le voulait I Ha! Mais bien sûr qu'elle le voulait, voyons! C'était une vraie petite femme. --- Elle posa son cerceau par terre et s'assit sur ses ta-lons. Je crus voir dans ses yeux une lueur d'estime. Je n'en demandais pas plus. Je pris mon canif et enta-mai le caoutchouc. Elle me regardait faire. — Tu vas le manger cru ? — Oui. J'avalai un morceau, puis un autre. Sous son regard enfin admiratif, je me sentais devenir vraiment un homme. Et j'avais raison. Je venais de faire mon apprentissage. J'entamai le caoutchouc encore plus profondément, soufflant un peu, entre les bouchées, et je continuai ainsi un bon moment, jusqu'à ce qu'une sueur froide me montât au front. Je continuai même un peu au-delà, serrant les dents, luttant contre la nausée, ramassant toutes mes forces pour demeurer sur le terrain, comme il me fallut le faire tant de fois, depuis, dans mon métier d'homme. Je fus très malade, on me transporta à l'hôpital, ma mère sanglotait, Aniela hurlait, les filles de l'atelier geignaient, pendant qu'on me mettait sur un brancard dans l'ambulance. J'étais très fier de moi. Mon amour d'enfant m'inspira vingt ans plus tard mon premier roman Éducation européenne, et aussi certains passages du Grand Vestiaire. Pendant longtemps, à travers mes pérégrinations, j'ai transporté avec moi un soulier d'enfant en caoutchouc, entamé au couteau. J'avais vingt-cinq ans, puis trente, puis quarante, mais le soulier était toujours là, à portée de la main. J'étais toujours prêt à m'y attabler, à donner, une fois de plus, le meilleur de moi-même. Ça ne s'est pas trouvé. Finalement, j'ai abandonné le soulier quelque part derrière moi. On ne vit pas deux fois. (La promesse de l'aube, ch. XI)

La madre di Ferguson fotografava sempre i soggetti nel loro ambiente, si recava nei luoghi in cui vivevano e lavoravano, portandosi dietro stativi portatili per le luci, paraventi pieghevoli e ombrelli telescopici, fotografava gli scrittori nel loro studio pieno di libri o seduti alla scrivania, i pittori fra gli schizzi e lo scompiglio del loro atelier, i pianisti seduti alla tastiera o in piedi accanto al loro lucente Steinway nero, gli attori davanti allo specchio del camerino o seduti soli sul nudo palcoscenico, e per qualche ragione i suoi ritratti in bianco e nero sembravano catturare la loro vita interiore meglio degli altri fotografi che ritraevano le stesse celebri figure, una qualità che forse non dipendeva dall’abilità tecnica ma da un certo non so che nella madre di Ferguson, che si preparava sempre per i suoi lavori leggendo i libri, ascoltando i dischi e guardando i quadri dei suoi soggetti, per avere qualcosa di cui parlare con loro durante le lunghe sedute, e siccome era una brava conversatrice, sempre molto affascinante e attraente, sempre restia a parlare di sé, quegli artisti vanitosi e complicati finivano per rilassarsi in sua presenza, avvertendo un genuino interesse per la loro persona e per quello che rappresentavano, un interesse vero o quasi, quasi sempre, e quando la seduzione riusciva e abbassavano la guardia, la maschera che portavano sul viso scivolava via un po’ alla volta e nel loro sguardo affiorava una luce diversa.

There is no such thing as music note by note just as there is no such thing as a book word by word. We have to accept that things are ambiguous,” Sebök said to one of the students on the last day of the master class. Is there any more fundamental lesson that we must learn as we mature? As my friend had told me, he might have been talking about all of life, not just music.

A voicing apprentice came to work at the Steinway factory one day to find his master, a man of great reserve, in tears. The master was standing before the disassembled action assembly of an old Steinway grand that had been sent back to the factory to be reconditioned. “What’s wrong?” asked the apprentice. “How can I help?” The master then explained that when he had removed the action assembly from the piano, he had found the name of another Steinway technician hidden on the inside, the signature of his late father.

Certains jours, travaillant aux Mystères de messieurs, j'avais envie d'alléger la planète des neuf dixièmes de ses phallophores - qui, par leur insécurité permanente, leur incertitude d'être (Pour qui tu te prends ? phrase masculine par excellence), leur passion pour les armes, leur rivalité, leur goût du pouvoir, leurs bagarres et magouilles de toutes sortes, conduisent notre espèce droit à l'extinction, d'autres jours au contraire j'avais envie de les remercier à genoux car ils ont inventé la roue et le canoë, l'alphabet et l'appareil photo, élaboré les sciences composé les musiques écrit les livres peint les tableaux bâti les palais les églises les mosquées les ponts les barrages et les routes, travaillé sans compter, durement et modestement, déployant leur force, leur patience, leur énergie et leur savoir-faire dans les champs de mine usines ateliers bibliothèques universités et laboratoires du monde entier. Oh ! hommes merveilleux, anonymes et innombrables, souffrant et vous dévouant, jour après jour, siècle après siècle pour nous faire vivre un peu mieux, avec un peu plus de confort et de beauté et de sens... que je vous aime !

This special moment takes the two pianists—master and student—someplace that no one else can go. The French call this sort of sharing, this meeting of minds, complicité, and the word captures perfectly the special bond that instantly develops as two pianists explore together the edge of music. If chamber music can be likened to a conversation, with a constant give-and-take, a joining and separating of the voices, this is all simultaneity, more like a duo of dancers who perform exactly the same figurations. By some remarkable chemistry a momentum builds that puts the two pianists in perfect concurrence.

The painting was so vibrant and alive with summertime that it seemed to fill the entire room with light. It depicted a small town on a summer day, and the people going about various tasks and activities. Over here was a picnic and happy children playing games, over there a postman delivering letters and chatting with a woman in curlers who was touching her hair in a way that suggested she was quite fond of the postman. Two boys in overalls and a young girl in a gingham dress were fishing by a stream beneath a big oak tree. A country church stood quietly at the end of town as if watching over all the people who would surely be sitting in its pews come Sunday morning.

J’ai essayé plus d’une fois, comme tous mes amis, de m’enfermer dans un système pour y prêcher à mon aise. Mais un système est une espèce de damnation qui nous pousse à une abjuration perpétuelle ; il en faut toujours inventer un autre, et cette fatigue est un cruel châtiment. Et toujours mon système était beau, vaste, spacieux, commode, propre et lisse surtout ; du moins il me paraissait tel. Et toujours un produit spontané, inattendu, de la vitalité universelle venait donner un démenti à ma science enfantine et vieillotte, fille déplorable de l’utopie. J’avais beau déplacer ou étendre le criterium, il était toujours en retard sur l’homme universel, et courait sans cesse après le beau multiforme et versicolore, qui se meut dans les spirales infinies de la vie. Condamné sans cesse à l’humiliation d’une conversion nouvelle, j’ai pris un grand parti. Pour échapper à l’horreur de ces apostasies philosophiques, je me suis orgueilleusement résigné à la modestie : je me suis contenté de sentir ; je suis revenu chercher un asile dans l’impeccable naïveté. J’en demande humblement pardon aux esprits académiques de tout genre qui habitent les différents ateliers de notre fabrique artistique. C’est là que ma conscience philosophique a trouvé le repos ; et, au moins, je puis affirmer, autant qu’un homme peut répondre de ses vertus, que mon esprit jouit maintenant d’une plus abondante impartialité.

Forța organizatoare, calitatea de lider și darul conducerii pot fi virtuțile unora dintre noi, dar nicidecum o obligație înnăscută a bărbatului. Mulți bărbați sunt neîndemânatici, nu au stofă de director și nu se pricep la luarea de decizii, însă au în schimb alte virtuți. Eficiența este bună și recomandabilă, dar lipsa unor limite ale atitudinii eficiente poate fi realmente primejdioasă. Exigența de a depăși întotdeauna orice limită îi impune bărbatului datoria de a fi mereu învingător. Imaginea ideală a reparatorului ambulant, cu atelier propriu și ustensile de ultimă oră, nu li se potrivește tuturor bărbaților. Mulți dintre noi nu suntem în stare să schimbăm un bec, nu avem idee cu ce se mănâncă mecanica, nu avem bormașină și, ceea ce pare a fi încă și mai grav, nici măcar nu știm să o mânuim. (Din fericire, noi, bărbații neputincioși, ne putem baza pe ajutorul necondiționat al experților din Pagini Aurii.) Nu recomand defel trândăvia și delăsarea, ci mai curând dreptul de a fi inutil. De a putea șovăi fără teamă și de a nu ști cum să reacționăm, fără să ne intereseze prea mult evoluția societății și totuși fără să ne pedepsim din cauza asta. Asumarea propriilor limite reprezintă un binemeritat repaos. „Egoul ideal” coboară din stratosferă și se apropie cu pași sinceri de „egoul real”. Se expune din punct de vedere psihologic, cu toate părțile sale, deopotrivă rele și bune. Nu contează că ne ies la iveală toate neputințele; tocmai acestea ne umanizează. Nu contează că trebuie să ne recunoaștem public ignoranța; ea ne purifică. Dacă nu am avea niciun cusur, am pierde plăcerea învățării și fascinația descoperirii. Sentința bărbatului înfrânt este la fel de simplă și de reconfortantă: „Bucură-te, din fericire nu le știi pe toate, iar partea cea mai bună este că nici nu poți să faci totul!

I hadn’t considered the suite, as the French put it, the follow-through to circumstances and events that lends life its air at once poignant and meaningful.

The room beyond was quite long and wider than the shop and it was swimming in light pouring down from a glass roof. It had the peculiar but magical air of being larger on the inside than the outside. This was one of the classic nineteenth-century workshops that are still to be found throughout Paris behind even the most bourgeois façades of carved stone. Very often the backs of buildings were extended to cover part of the inner courtyard and the space roofed over with panels of glass, like a giant greenhouse.

Summer set in early and the sidewalks in the quartier came alive after hours. In a city where few apartments are air-conditioned, the terraces of cafés and restaurants become the common refuge from a withering heat in the evening. The long light of June and July encouraged those gathered at the outdoor tables to linger well into the night, while swallows threaded the air with their shrill whistles. Before the August dispersion, everyone in the neighborhood seemed to revel in the slower pace that the heat imposed.

If someone had beaucoup de caractère and took pleasure in making music, no praise was too great.

La folle qui fouillait les couches usagées cherchait dans les Pampers le lait maternel d’un sein giflé par les hommes qui payent l’odeur des bébés noyés en elle comme dans des toilettes publiques elle cherchait dans les Pampers la nourriture des chiens aux gueules malodorantes de gens ingrats qu’elle laissait lui lécher la joue elle cherchait dans les Pampers la carte des ateliers de peinture de luxe pour prendre de la drogue elle cherchait dans les Pampers le parc où ton propre enfant promenait son chien en laisse et riait bruyamment sous le parapluie rouge (traduit du roumain par Gabrielle Danoux)

En dehors des statues finies de Michel-Ange, j'ai la certitude que son atelier serait encore quelque chose de suggestif et de grand. Même la sciure de son marbre, n'aurait-elle pas un aspect auguste ? C'est une impression de cet ordre que vous causera ce gros volume de cinq cent cinquante pages, où il y a de la sciure de ces idées qui, depuis, sont devenues des monuments !

Suzanne was resolutely working-class and had never set foot in an art school or atelier in any other capacity than as a model. Degas and Bartholomé could feel rightly proud.

Marx sonhava com uma situação que já não mais existia, o atelier do artesão medieval, cada artista, cada aprendiz, fazendo uma coisa única, que nunca mais se repetiria: em cada objeto o rosto do que o produzira, cada objeto uma experiência de felicidade narcísica. É isso que combina conosco, seres humanos, únicos, que nunca se repetem.

Do you think I can become a witch just like you?

Loveliness is…the sustenance of life!

I still don’t understand. I don’t understand anything. I’m nervous and scared, and it’s eating me up from inside.

Oh, dear…Did I maybe do something kinda, sorta…entirely unnecessary?

Unfortunately, our bodies and minds don’t always behave the way we want them to.

Being upset when you’re not able to do something is normal. That’s what motivates you to grow. I’m going to become something greater than I am now. And I lack experience as I am now. It’s impossible to imagine feeling satisfied with my current self.

I’m starting to feel…like I might even be able…to have a little bit of confidence! Master, I have something to say! I’m not as hopeless as you always said I was! My master might not be able to understand but the fact that I can’t do the same things as everyone else…might be the key that leads to things that only I can do.

A bell chimes as I open the door. It's even more magical inside than out. Spools of ribbon hang from the walls like the atelier of a fairy queen. Tiny jasmine buds lace through the curls of a crystal chandelier. Dresses fill the curves of antique wardrobes, as if this were a princess's closet and not a store. A group of girls squeal as they browse the gowns. They've dressed almost otherworldly, so unlike the yoga pants and sweatshirts I'm used to in San Francisco. Instead, they're ornamented in seafoam trousers made of silk, lace corsets with ruffles across the bustier, satin slips with rose embroidery. They wear seashells in their hair and around their necks--- an iridescent mollusk held together by a string of pearls, an abalone claw clip that flashes different colors beneath the light, pukas threaded between pastel sea glass.

Je me souviens de l'atelier de mon père. Je ne peux pas passer devant l’échoppe d'un cordonnier sans croire que mon père est encore vivant, quelque part dans l'au-delà du monde, assis devant une table de fumée, avec son tablier bleu, son tranchet, ses ligneuls, ses alènes, en train de faire des souliers en cuir d'ange pour quelque dieu à mille pieds. Jean le bleu.

When I was your age, Master Beldaruit insisted on following me everywhere. It used to irk me to no end. But now that I can see the other side of that coin... Trust me when I say the adults in your life have no wish to discount you. It is the surrounding world in which they lack faith.

Shiya chipped in, "Wonderful! Our cultural attaché to Paris will make arrangements with the fashion houses, informing them that we'll be attending. They will also provide us with a list of designer ateliers. I'll organize everything immediately.” "Fabulous!” I kept my cool, acting as if designer shows in Paris were an ordinary item on my agenda. I was screaming with happiness on the inside.

Je vais et viens comme un fou dans mon atelier. De nouveau les lignes étranges, les chrysanthèmes et les gouttes de sang jaillissent en délire sous ma main. Impossible de travailler. Je ne peux rien assembler ni créer de sensé. Hier, j'ai commencé à La dessiner et j'ai esquissé son corps affalé, comme je l'avais vu avant-hier dans la nuit et quand j'eus fini, j'ai vu. J'avais dessiné un lys monstrueux, coupé et jeté sans pitié dans un bizarre fleuve avec des milliers de courbes. Aujourd'hui, je le regarde ce n'est pas un fleuve mais un monstrueux serpent qui court quelque part là-bas, avec des milliers de courbes, et qui tient dans sa bouche, un superbe, un monstrueux lys. ~ P 34

Ah, ticălos, nefericit lustragiu de cuvinte, atelier de sorcove!... Hârtia e plină de gângănii strivite, vorbe cu treizeci şi două de picioare, inerţii grase, târâtoare, duhnind a cerneală stătută, sinuoase moluşte cotcodăcind duios peste neîncepute emoţii

J’ai déjà dit que la Communauté juive s’était chargée de recruter les travailleurs pour le service obligatoire afin d’épargner à la population la terreur des rafles. Chaque jour, les autorités allemandes lui communiquaient les instructions concernant le nombre d’hommes à fournir et le lieux où ceux-ci devaient se rendre. La Communauté envoyait des convocations aux personnes désignées. Ces billets indiquaient la date de la prestation et portaient l’avertissement suivant : les requis qui ne se présenteraient pas seraient signalés immédiatement à la police et sévèrement punis. Les rassemblements se faisaient à six heures du matin devant l’immeuble de la Communauté ou place Grzybow. Des chefs d’équipe permanents inscrivaient les ouvriers et les accompagnaient sur les chantiers sous la garde de soldats allemands. En décembre 1939, une nouvelle ordonnance obligea tous les Juifs de sexe masculin, âgés de douze à soixante ans, à se faire procéder à leur enregistrement. Tout homme inscrit reçut une carte portant sa photographie et mentionnant son identité, sa profession, ses occupations. Chaque mois, il lui fallait faire timbrer cette carte au bureau de la Communauté. Celui qui exerçait un travail régulier devait, en outre, verser au moins 20 zlotys à chaque vérification de sa fiche. Grâce à cette taxe, il était plus ou moins assuré de travailler à l’intérieur de la ville. Les Juifs sans emploi étaient portés sur la liste des « bataillons de travailleurs » envoyés, en général, dans des camps, à l’extérieur de la ville ; ils subissaient là l’enfer de l’esclavage, des souffrances morales et physiques ainsi que les pires humiliations. Ces bataillons de travailleurs étaient habituellement chargés de la construction des routes, de l’élargissement et de la consolidation des berges de la Vistule. Ils travaillaient comme de véritables bagnards. Des milliers d’entre eux ne revinrent jamais. Lorsqu’un requis n’obéissait pas à la convocation, la police arrêtait une personne de son entourage - souvent un malade ou un vieillard. Le ghetto faisait partie intégrante du mécanisme économique de l’appareil de guerre nazi. Des Allemands, comme Tebenz, mirent sur pied dans le ghetto même de gigantesques fabriques où l’on confectionna des vêtements militaires et civils dans les étoffes d’excellente qualité volées par les Allemands dans toute la Pologne. Un Allemand de Dantzig, Shulz, qui avant la guerre traitait des affaires avec des Juifs polonais, ouvrit rue Nowolipie plusieurs ateliers où l’on travailla le cuir et la fourrure. Leszczinsky, un Polonais, monta rue Ogrodowa de vastes ateliers d’habillement. Une société commerciale composée d’Allemands, de Volksdeutschen, de Polonais et de Juifs entreprit la fabrication d’articles de brosserie. La matière première fut fournie par les autorités allemandes. La production était utilisée généralement pour les besoins militaires et, peut-être, en partie, pour satisfaire la demande de milieux privés ayant quelque attache avec l’armée. Dans ces usines ne travaillèrent que des Juifs du ghetto. Leur nombre atteignit plusieurs dizaines de milliers. Chez Tebenz les effectifs, au début de 1943, dépassèrent quinze mille ouvriers. Leur salaire était infime. Chaque ouvrier avait droit à deux litres de soupe par jour au prix de 60 à 70 groschen ; sa condition était celle d’un esclave.

In een van de gedichten in 'Wat koop ik voor jouw donkerwilde machten, Willem' schuurt Nick Cave de plinten in mijn atelier. Sommige mensen zeggen dan, Benders, je hebt te veel fantasie, maar het is helemaal geen kwestie van fantasie, als je even verder leest staat overduidelijk vermeld dat het om een heitje voor karweitje gaat.

There can be no doubt: the presence of the atelier has been crucial for its evolution, as a natural consequence of the specific visual culture that the atelier tends to generate.

I’ve never met a person who goes to the Met expecting to see a thrilling assortment of works from the Jeff Koons atelier. Why be encouraging?

Longtemps, un bâtiment a symbolisé la face underground arty du Queens : le 5 Pointz Aerosol Art Center. Un immense entrepôt accueillant plus de 200 ateliers d'artiste et recouvert de graffitis, devenu la Mecque des amateurs de street art. 5 Pointz, nommé ainsi pour symboliser l'épicentre des cinq quartiers de New York, a pour voisin célèbre l'annexe du MoMA, le PS1, qui propose des expositions souvent plus audacieuses que le grand frère de Manhattan.

The fourteenth-century court artists of Ife made bronze sculptures using a complicated casting process lost to Europe since antiquity, and which was not rediscovered there until the Renaissance. Ife sculptures are equal to the works of Ghiberti or Donatello. From their precision and formal sumptuousness we can extrapolate the contours of a great monarchy, a network of sophisticated ateliers, and a cosmopolitan world of trade and knowledge. And it was not only Ife. All of West Africa was a cultural ferment. From the egalitarian government of the Igbo to the goldwork of the Ashanti courts, the brass sculpture of Benin, the military achievement of the Mandinka Empire and the musical virtuosi who praised those war heroes, this was a region of the world too deeply invested in art and life to simply be reduced to a caricature of “watching the conquerors arrive.” We know better now. We know it with a stack of corroborating scholarship and we know it implicitly, so that even making a list of the accomplishments feels faintly tedious, and is helpful mainly as a counter to Eurocentrism. There

On suppose que l'art nous rend révoltés en nous montrant des choses révoltantes, qu'il nous mobilise par le fait de se mouvoir hors de l'atelier ou du musée et qu'il nous transforme en opposants au système dominant en se niant lui- même comme élément de ce système.

Too long have we hidden away here in the atelier courts.

Everyone who dies in Florence has a copy of Great Expectations.

Dans les ateliers de réparation provisoires, les hommes tapaient du marteau, actionnaient les soufflets et forgeaient le fer pour les roues des verdines.

Avec la rentrée universitaire de janvier allaient débuter les ateliers de dissection. Enfin on en venait aux choses sérieuses. C'est ce qui frissonnait dans les esprits. C'en serait fini des immersions abstraites dans les croquis scandés de précisions physiologiques, et que composait de cours en cours un triumvirat d'anatomistes (un cow-boy connu pour avoir mis au point les premières interventions in utero ; une vieille barbe qui avait fait taire les sifflements lors de son topo sur le sein, quand il avait expliqué comment il était passé à côté de la tumeur mammaire de sa défunte épouse ; et crâne d’œuf, spécialiste du système nerveux central et prosecteur en chef). (p. 19)

Before we leave the atelier, Garrance reaches into her purse and pulls out a small black metal container from it. "Kate, this is for the restaurant. Open it." I take the oval tin and lift the lid to find strands of saffron glowing red. In fact, all of our faces sparkle from the light. "It's the finest of saffron, from Kashmir, worth its weight in gold," she continues, her eyes twinkling. "I'm expecting you'll use it wisely to create something magical." "Today was magic," I say, kissing her cheek. "Merci pour tout." "This is only the beginning," she says.

Over the last decade, entire neighbourhoods have lost their identity to the ever-growing clothing retail market. Since my first visit to the Marais quarter of Paris in 2003, I have seen the area shift from a charming, off-beat district featuring a mix of up-and-coming designers, traditional ateliers, bookstores and boulangeries to what amounts to an open-air shopping mall dominated by international brands. In the last five years, an antique shop has been replaced by a chic clothing store and the last neighbourhood supermarket transformed into a threestorey flagship of one of the clothing giants. The old quarter is now only faintly visible, like writing on a medieval palimpsest: overhanging the gleaming sign of a sleek clothes shop, on a faded ceramic fascia board, is written ‘BOULANGERIE’. In economically developed countries, people’s motivations for spending money have long since shifted from needs to desires. There’s no denying we need places to live in, food to nourish us and clothes to dress ourselves in, and, while we’re at it, we might as well do these things with a certain degree of refinement to help make life as pleasurable as possible. But when did the clothing industry turn into little more than a cash machine whose main purpose seems to be its own never-ending growth? Just as clothing retail shops are sucking the identity out of entire neighbourhoods, so that the architecture becomes little more than a backdrop for their products, the production of the garments they sell is eating away at the Earth’s resources and the life of the workers who are producing them. Fashion has become the second most polluting industry in the world. And with what result? Our wardrobes are cluttered with so many clothes that the mere sight of them becomes overwhelming, yet at the same time we feel a constant craving for the next purchase that will transform our look.

At the next atelier, Alexis actually appeared at the end of the fashion show and the girls suddenly transformed into frothing tweens at a One Direction concert, trying to impress him and one-up each other in ordering outfits.

Miahel had been confined to atelier courts for over forty years; now he emerged, fresh as a dew-heavy bird, sleeky fed and quivering with unspent energy.

Atelier Eva is a luxury tattoo studio in Brooklyn, NY, with an accepting atmosphere and safe space for people of all backgrounds, beliefs, and walks of life. Owner Eva Karabudak has gathered a family of talented fine line tattoo artists hailing from diverse backgrounds that form the foundation of their individual styles. Instead of conforming to one single vision, each tattoo artist is free to explore, express, and create in a spa-like tattoo experience that is transforming the tattoo industry.

Il est temps de regarder la vérité en face. C’est fini entre Giovanni et moi. Adieu Boldini. Adieu les matinées nonchalantes dans son atelier.

Pour ne rien arranger, Boldini s’est lassé de mes charmes. Il ne me dit même plus bonjour ! J’ai frappé à sa porte. Pas de réponse. Je lui ai laissé des mots demandant qu’il passe me voir chez moi ou aux Folies. Pas de réaction. Et quand je l’ai attendu dans l’allée derrière son atelier, il a ameuté les gendarmes !

The narrow streets and modest plazas were empty of life and slick with rain, while above them the soaring ateliers brooded, their dark windows as blank as weary eyes.

Dans une carte postale datée de décembre 1923, envoyé depuis Téhéran à Brancusi, la baronne René Irana Frachon, le "modèle" de le "Muse endormie" (1909–1910), transmet ses vœux à tous ceux qui devaient se réunir à l'atelier du sculpteur: "Bon Noël, cher amis et mille affectueuses pensées pour vous et les camarades: Lysica, Irène Germaine Taillefer, Cendrars, Léger, Cocteau, Milhaud, Poulenc et les gentils et Elessen." Ainsi la présence de Lizica Codréano dans les milieux artistiques parisiens durant la deuxième décennie du XXe siècle et mes questionnements sur ses créations artistiques, sont au fondement de ma recherche sur la personnalité de cette danseuse, restée dans l'histoire de la danse moderne à travers quelques images. (p. 16)

Atelier001 is a London-based luxury lighting brand, a lighting collection curated by illumination artist Eva Menz, transforming authentic materials into timeless lighting objects.

Life is a river,” he once told me, “and we all have to find a boat that floats.

suis allée à l’atelier de Boldini, aujourd’hui. Et, oh scandale, pas à l’heure du cinq-à-sept ! Toute dame de la bonne société sait qu’elle ne doit jamais rendre visite à un homme en dehors de ces heures. Arriver à quatre heures et demie serait considéré comme un manque total de raffinement pour ne pas dire de la grossièreté.

I was accidentally at the forefront of a movement that was taking shape—what Li Jin, former partner at Andreessen Horowitz and founder of Atelier Ventures, calls the “passion economy”—“a world in which people are able to do what they love for a living and to have a more fulfilling and purposeful life.” At the time I created Gumroad, online creator platforms were still new, but the rise of no-code solutions has made building and charging for podcasts, video and audio content, online courses, virtual teaching, and virtual coaching almost seamless, so that starting a business around something you love has never been more attainable. You probably have something you enjoy, something that on its face has nothing to do with your “real” job. Maybe it’s marathon running or ceramics or electronic music or another passion that you pursue in your free time. Whatever it is, building a minimalist business around the people you love to spend time with and the ways you love to spend your time depends on being part of a community. You may already be thinking about how to solve the problems of a current community you participate in, or you may simply be planning to join a community based on something you love. Either way, finding your people is really important at the beginning. Not just for the sake of your business but also for the sake of your own well-being. Taking writing and painting classes in Provo reminded me that my community wasn’t just the people in front of me; it was also a wider group who wanted, like me, to “turn their passions into livelihoods.” The real communities I was a part of didn’t care about growth at all costs; that kind of accelerated expansion would have cracked them into a million little pieces. Instead, their priority, like mine, was connecting to each other in ways that allowed for the space, time, and freedom to explore their interests and to eventually transform their passions into businesses in meaningful ways.

Parce qu’entre 1980 et 2015, la Chine, pays de 1,36 milliard d’habitants (en 2013), est devenue non seulement l’atelier du monde mais surtout, pour les classes aisées occidentales, le paradis du surprofit. Vendre sur les marchés des pays avancés les biens produits par une main-d’œuvre chinoise sous-payée a permis, durant quelques décennies, de réaliser des marges de rêve. Ce rêve financier a muté en fausse conscience, en refus de comprendre qu’il est impossible de pérenniser le modèle, tant du côté des Occidentaux que des Chinois eux-mêmes.

Versailles Atelier Bridal is a luxury bridal shop offering a curated selection of designer wedding gowns, custom designs, and inclusive sizing. Known for exceptional service and private appointments, the boutique provides a personalized, empowering experience for every bride. Expert stylists focus on celebrating individuality and guiding each bride to her perfect gown in a warm, elegant setting.

For you see, teachings cannot take root if they fail to captivate the student - Beldaruit the Wise (Witch Hat Atelier Vol. 6)

Dar frumusetea, adevarata frumusete, sfarseste acolo unde apare expresivitatea intelectuala. In sine, intelectul este o maniera de exagerare si distruge armonia oricarui chip. In momentul in care te asezi sa gandesti, devii doar nas sau frunte sau ceva respingator. Uita-te la oamenii de succes din oricare dintre profesiunile intelectuale. Sunt perfect hidosi ! ‘’ 2.‘’Atunci cand imi plac enorm unii oameni, nu le spun numele altora. E ca si cum as renunta la o parte din ei. De la o vreme cultiv discretia. Se pare ca este acel lucru care face viata moderna misterioasa sau incredibil de minunata. Cel mai banal lucru devine incantator daca il ascunzi. Cand plec din oras nu spun nimanui unde ma duc. Daca as face-o, as pierde intreaga placere. E un obicei prostesc, as zice, dar se pare ca aduce o mare doza de aventura in propria-ti existenta. Imi inchipui ca ma crezi teribil de necugetat.’’ 3.‘’Constiinta si lasitatea sunt unul si acelasi lucru, Basil draga. Constiinta e doar numele comercial. Asta-i tot.’’ 4.‘’- Poetii nu sunt atat de scrupulosi ca tine. Ei stiu bine cat de utila este pasiunea pentru a putea publica o carte. In zilele noastre o inima distrusa se lasa tiparita in mai multe editii. -Ii urasc pentru asta, striga Hallward. Artistul trebuie sa creeze lucruri frumoase, dar nu trebuie sa puna nimic din viata lui in acestea. Traim intr-o epoca in care oamenii trateaza arta de parca ar fi o forma de autobiografie. Am pierdut sensul abstract al frumosului. ‘’ 5.’’Simt o placere cu totul ciudata in a-i spune lucruri de care stiu ca-mi va parea rau ca i le-am spus. De regula el se poarta fermecator; stam in atelier si vorbim despre o multime de lucruri. Totusi, din cand in cand e groaznic de necugetat si pare ca-i produce o mare placere sa ma faca sa sufar. In acele momente simt ca mi-am dat in intregime sufletul cuiva care il trateaza de parca ar fi o floare de pus la butoniera, asa, ceva decorativ care sa-i incante vanitatea, un ornament pentru o zi de vara.’’ 6.’’ Pentru ca a influenta pe cineva inseamna sa-i dai propriul suflet. Cel influentat nu mai gandeste cu propriile ganduri si nu mai arde cu propriile-i pasiuni. Pentru el virtutile nu mai sunt reale. Pacatele, daca exista intr-adevar pacate, sunt imprumutate. El devine ecoul muzicii altcuiva, un actor care joaca un rol ce nu a fost scris pentru el. Scopul vietii e dezvoltarea sinelui. Atingerea propriei naturi intr-un mod perfect-iata pentru ce suntem aici, pe pamant, fiecare dintre noi. Azi, oamenii se tem de ei insisi. Au uitat suprema datorie, datoria fata de sine.’’ 7. ‘’Pentru a-ti recastiga tineretea trebuie doar sa-ti repeti nebuniile. (…..)Azi cei mai multi oameni mor dintr-un soi de bun-simt infiorator si descopera atunci cand e prea tarziu ca singurele lucruri pe care nu le regreta sunt greselile comise. (…) Se juca cu idea si o continua cu obstinatie; o zvarlea in aer si o transforma, o lasa sa-i scape si o prindea din nou, o facea sa iradieze de fantezie si ii dadea apoi aripi de paradox.’’ 8. ‘’Femeile banale nu-ti starnesc imaginatia. Sunt limitate la secolul in care traiesc. Ghicesti ce gandesc la fel de usor cum le cunosti palariile. Le poti descoperi usor. Nu au nici un pic de mister. Au zambete stereotipe si maniere la moda. Sunt destul de transparente.’’ 9. ‘’Tocmai pasiunile asupra carora ne inselam ne tiranizeaza cu mai multa forta. Cele mai debile motive sunt cele de a caror natura suntem constienti. De cele mai multe ori se intampla ca, atunci cand credem ca facem experiente pe altii, sa facem de fapt experiente pe noi.’’ 10.’’Sufletul e o realitate teribila. Poate fi vandut si cumparat si pus la vanzare. Poate fi otravit sau adus la perfectiune. Toti avem un suflet. Stiu.

We have been dreaming of robots since Homer. In Book 18 of the Iliad , Achilles’ mother, the nymph Thetis, wants to order a new suit of armor for her son, and so she pays a visit to the Olympian atelier of the blacksmith-god Hephaestus, whom she finds hard at work on a series of automata: . . . He was crafting twenty tripods to stand along the walls of his well-built manse, affixing golden wheels to the bottom of each one so they might wheel down on their own [automatoi] to the gods’ assembly and then return to his house anon: an amazing sight to see. These are not the only animate household objects to appear in the Homeric epics. In Book 5 of the Iliad we hear that the gates of Olympus swivel on their hinges of their own accord, automatai , to let gods in their chariots in or out, thus anticipating by nearly thirty centuries the automatic garage door. In Book 7 of the Odyssey , Odysseus finds himself the guest of a fabulously wealthy king whose palace includes such conveniences as gold and silver watchdogs, ever alert, never aging. To this class of lifelike but intellectually inert household helpers we might ascribe other automata in the classical tradition. In the Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes, a third-century-BC epic about Jason and the Argonauts, a bronze giant called Talos runs three times around the island of Crete each day, protecting Zeus’s beloved Europa: a primitive home alarm system.

-Ce sa fac, dom'le, ce sa fac? Cine n-are lemne, nu poate picta. Lemnele sunt scumpe. In atelier e totdeauna frig. Natura imi face mizerii: trebuie sa gasesc numai fete rezistente la frig...de obicei, florarese, ca astea sunt obisnuite! Sa bata vantul prin ele, in Piata Sf. Gheorghe, si dupa doi-trei ani de antrenament, le culeg tocmai bune de pictat!...Sint reci, si negre ca pamantul, incat eu cred ca ghioceii cresc chiar din ele, asa cum noua ne creste parul. Ca pictor, bineinteles, eu lucrez cu paltonul pe spinare, dar modelul meu tremura in frigul odaii. Ei, bine, n-am inima de piatra pe care mi-o presupui: cand o vad invinetita artistic, mi se face mila de ea si o invit in pat, unde am datoria sa ma ocup de caloriile ei! ...O tratez cu un ceai fierbinte, cu biscuiti, sau cu nite miezuri de nuca, prajite pe resou, sau cu etcetera...dar etcetera mai rar! La plecare, imi lasa florile nevandute! Unele sunt de coloare vinetie...juri ca sunt de liliac-batut... -Fetele sau florile? -Toate! Cand pictez un nud violet, mi se reproseaza ca pictez fantezist! Habar n-au de realitate criticii astia! Toate fetele pe care le pictez sunt violete! Natura le face suprarealiste, nu eu!

Painting has as much to do with evolving consciousness as training the eye.

To be a dancer is to spend a great part of your life in front of a mirror. Often an unkind mirror.

History's kind of lost its raison d'être. It's no longer exemplary. It's become at best entertainment.

Barbara Hyman was born in Philadelphia, and is now a New York, and Key West based painter. After receiving her B.A. in Art History, Barbara continued her studies in fine art. Barbara studied privately at the Atelier of Daniel Bennet Schwartz, NYC, The National Academy of Design, NYC, the Art Students League of New York, and the Saci School, Florence, Italy. She is also Certified in Appraising Fine Art. Barbara Hyman's paintings and drawings hang in collections in Pennsylvania and New York.

Iedere ochtend zag Vincent uit het raam van het atelier hoe het voorjaar forser over de zelfkant van de stad streek: geen lachende fee die in pastelkleurige sluiers kwam aangehuppeld, maar een bolle boerenmeid, zwaar op de benen, die rokken aan had met verstellappen erop en naar gier en geploegde aarde rook. De roeken zwermden over de knotwilgen, de rook sloeg driftiger neer vanaf de spoorbaan, langs het landweggetje voor Vincents huis glommen de plekken kolengruis natter en zwarter. Boven een verwiste horizon hingen rafelig getornde wolken, de kleuren waren guur, blauw, groen en stuurs. Hij keek naar de gravers en mestrijders op de landpaden en in de bouwveldjes, de oude mensen die hier kwamen aanschuifelen in de eerste fladderige plekjes zonneschijn; ze hadden de kleur en bijna de vorm van oud knoestig geboomte; hij volgde hun bewegingen met spanning; hij trachtte hen snel te tekenen.

L'hirondelle retardataire qui nichait sans complexe à l'intérieur de l'atelier s'envola avec un cri effarouché par la porte qui restait ouverte à sa seule attention, au grand dam de mon mari qui voyait ses outils se souiller de déjections avicoles.

Should I tell them of my lifelong love of pianos, of how I hoped to play again after many vagabond years when owning a piano was as impractical as keeping a large dog or a collection of orchids?

[La grève générale expropriatrice est] un mouvement, sinon violent, du moins actif, tendant à annihiler la résistance du capitalisme et de ses moyens de coercition : pour cela, il évitera de prendre la forme d'une insurrection, trop facilement réductible militairement, ou d'une épreuve de force financière qui verrait nécessairement la défaite du prolétariat. Elle ne débouchera pas sur un pouvoir socialiste, mais sur une société de type absolument nouveau, reposant sur la libre association de producteurs. C'est que la grève générale devant être une révolution de partout et de nulle part, la prise de possession des instruments de production devant s'y opérer par quartier, par rue, par maison, pour ainsi dire, plus de constitution possible d'un « gouvernement insurrectionnel » d'une « dictature prolétarienne », plus de « foyer » à l'émeute, plus de « centre » à la résistance ; l'association libre de chaque groupe de boulangers dans chaque boulangerie ; de chaque groupe de serruriers dans chaque atelier de serrurerie ; en un mot, la production libre.

Être attentif à une branche prise dans le vent du matin. Observer le mouvement de la brume et des nuages. Vivre les lieux. Respirer les parfums de la nature. Saisir l’instant. Puis s’enfermer dans son atelier. Et reproduire en un trait unique les nuances de la réalité. Travail solitaire. Souffle divin. Comme tous les artistes sur cette terre, changer le monde de façon invisible. Et cependant évidente…

This sensitivity to the qualities of wood was as essential to the pioneers of piano building as it was to the great makers of stringed instruments like Stradivari or Guarneri.

Luc explained that the woodworking tradition was firmly established in Germany from the Middle Ages, and that guilds and families regularly replanted trees in order to provide the right kind of wood for their descendants.

On a visit to the Steinway showroom in New York, I saw Henry Steinway, the last member of the family to be connected with the company, take out a felt-tip pen and sign the painted metal frame of a piano for an enthusiastic customer. It was like watching a baseball player sign a ball, or an author his book, and seemed in keeping with our age of celebrity.

This pronouncement suggests how France differs from America in this respect. In the United States, private institutions—schools, conservatories, hospitals, universities—are very often the richest and most prestigious of their kind, while this is rarely the case in France. The government-run conservatories are showered with resources while their private counterparts must make do by raising money in a country where there are few private foundations and little tradition of giving for activities that are regarded as the province of the state.

I accepted the commission because the couturieres of Atelier Favrielle relish a challenge more than we fear ought else.

Alright, but I’m hardly an expert in the occult or anything like that. You’ve read my stories, so you know they’ve more in common with Robert Nathan than Stephen King.

Still looking at me, she laughed and said, “Yesterday I caught him in the back reading an old play called Outward Bound, and crying.

Recalling an old movie version of the play, starring lovely Helen Chandler, I chipped in, “Isn’t Outward Bound that old Sutton Vane story from the 1920s about people who find themselves on a ship bound for nowhere, before they realize some of them are dead?

Any buyers among them?” Gregory said, changing the subject abruptly. “Or just looky-loos?

I said, “You don’t always have to write about what you know. Sometimes it’s good to write about what you dream.

Nous faisons tous les mêmes erreurs. Fuir nos fantômes plutôt qu'apprendre à vivre avec.

L'amour mort vous terrasse et vous cimente le cœur.

L'ignorance est plus dangereuse qu'une grenade dégoupillée.

Démétrius, saint (Sf. Dumitru). Il passe pour être le patron des animaux et de la maison. On le fête le 26 octobre en allumant un grand feu qui a pour fonction de réchauffer les morts et d'éloigner les bêtes sauvages de la demeure. Ceux qui bondissent par-dessus le feu sont préservés de la maladie. Du haut d'une colline les jeunes du village font rouler une roue entourée de paille enflammée tandis que les enfants vont de maison en maison et collectent bretzels et fruits. Un jour, saint Démétrius passa la nuit dans une famille où les Destinées prédisaient que le nouveau-né mourait s'il traversait un jour le fleuve à cheval pour gagner le village voisin et y célébrer ses noces. Impressionné, Démétrius se rendit aux noces du jeune homme et, pour éviter le malheur annoncé, il lui prêta son cheval. Malheureusement, l'animal trébucha en traversant l'eau : le jeune homme fut mouillé et mourut aussitôt. (p. 71)

Le mauvais œil, qui joue un rôle important chez Virgile, Horace, envie et surtout plus tard, et la faculté qu'ont certaines personnes de faire du mal aux êtres vivants, plantes, aux objets, etc. Il peut rendre malade ou tuer les hommes, surtout les enfants, les animaux, détruire une maison, ruiner une vie, casser une bouteille. Bien des gens possèdent deux des de naissance le pouvoir de nuire sans le vouloir : il regarde aimablement avec admiration une personne et lui nuisent. D'autres doivent acquérir cette faculté. Le mauvais œil peut-être aussi dû à des paroles, par exemple quand on exprime son admiration pour les qualités de quelqu'un ; on peut même se causer du tort à soi-même quand on est très content d'une situation. Selon les Roumains, certains individus peuvent posséder le mauvais œil : ceux qui ont les yeux bleus ou verts, dont les sourcils se rejoignent, les roues, ce qui fera l'été après avoir été sauverai, ce qui se sont dans un miroir avant d'avoir un amant. Même les oiseaux et les quadrupèdes, léchant les forêts, les sourcils et puis, les chemins et les sentiers, la maison est là et, social, vent, soleil et la lune peuvent avoir le mauvais œil. Ces victimes sont des petits-enfants, de beaux adolescents, des fillettes, les fiancés, les femmes en couches et tous les animaux domestiques, les abeilles, vers à soie, même les céréales, les arbres et les fleurs. Le mauvais elle provoque de fortes céphalées, l'insomnie, la fièvre, les pics les pistes axis, manque d'appétit chez les hommes et les bêtes. Les plantes et les arbres se dessèchent, les objets ne peuvent être utilisés. On traite la personne touchée par le mauvais œil à l'aide de charme tandis que les braises sont plongées dans la première eau que l'on a retirée du puits avec un verre ce jour-là. (p. 145-146)

Papillons. À l'origine du monde il n'y avait que de l'eau couverte d'écume à l'endroit où se trouvaient un papillon et un ver. Le papillon déposa ses ailes, reçut un splendide visage et devint Dieu. Des cornes et une queue poussèrent au vers qui devint diable. Selon d'autres mythes, le papillon, né des âmes des enfants morts, apporte de l'eau aux âmes assoiffées. Les variétés de grands papillons sont appelées Tête de Mort, Tête d'Adam, etc. Apercevoir en premier un papillon rouge au printemps est signe de santé et de bonheur pour toute l'année, alors qu'en voir un jaune ou noir apporte maladie et mort. (p. 152)

We’ll take any job until we can get a job sewing. You could be a secretary, and I could be a maid. Can you imagine working in an atelier on Fifth Avenue?” “I almost can,” Enza says excitedly. Talking to Laura was like opening a treasure chest.