Atelier Quotes

Benford’s office looked like the atelier

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.

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

[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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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!

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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?

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.

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.

Magic exists to make people happy.

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!

What though is happiness if not the overcoming of obstacles?

Eccentricity is not the synonym for elegance.

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.

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

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.

Everybody experiences things a little differently.

All great discoveries are born of adversity.

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.

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!

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!

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…

Make magic…part of everyday life…

Behold the terror of sleep deprivation.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

nostalgia for the present, George would call it.

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

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

What is fate if not attraction?

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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”).

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?

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.

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.

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.