Tate Modern Quotes

You're very good. Are you a professional artist?" "I dabble," she said. Shadow had spent enough time talking to the English to know that this meant either that she dabbled, or that her work was regularly hung in the National gallery or the Tate Modern.

In the seven years I worked at the Tate Gallery in London about six and a half were spent discussing possible exhibition titles. “I Kid You Not,” “No Word of a Lie,” “It’s a Material World,” were all discussed at some time or another as potential names for a show. A typical “titles meeting” would involve about fifteen people, thirteen of whom remained mute, other than to say “no” or “absolutely not,” while a couple of optimistic individuals made suggestions. It was ridiculous, of course, but it does highlight a central tension in the art world: public engagement versus scholarship.

I don't understand the modern educational system at all." "Neither do I. We have to learn sewing and knitting and smocking. In Deportment, they make us walk around the room with a book on our heads." Granddaddy said, "I find that actually reading the book is a much more effective way of absorbing.

The English departments were clogged with worthy but outworn and backwardlooking scholars whose tastes in the moderns were most often superficial, random, and vulgar. Students who. wanted to write got little practical help from their professors. They studied the classics as monsters that were slowly losing their fur and feathers and leaking a little sawdust. What one did oneself was all chance and shallowness, and no profession seemed wispier and less needed than that of the poet. My own group, that of Tate and Ransom, was all for the high discipline, for putting on the full armor of the past, for making poetry something that would take a man's full weight and that would bear his complete intelligence, passion, and subtlety. Almost anything, the Greek and Roman classics, Elizabethan dramatic poetry, seventeenth-century metaphysical verse, old and modern critics, aestheticians and philosophers, could be suppled up and again made necessary. The struggle perhaps centered on making the old metrical forms usable again to express the depths of one's experience.

Emin’s My Bed, which was nominated for the prestigious Turner Prize, consisted of an unmade bed complete with bottles of vodka, used prophylactics, and bloodied undergarments. While on display at the Tate Gallery in 1999, the bed was vandalized by two nude men who proceeded to jump on it and drink the vodka. The world of modern art being what it is, everyone at the gallery applauded, assuming that the vandalism was part of the show. Emin is now employed as a professor at the European Graduate School.

Carmen Herrera, pintora de 100 años, vendió su primera pintura a los 89 años. Hoy sus obras están en la colección permanente del Museo de Arte Moderno y el Tate Modern. Cuando la periodista le preguntó cómo veía su futuro a los 99 años, declaró: «Mi motivación es terminar el siguiente proyecto. Voy día a día».

Look at a current list of the most popular tourist attractions in London and you would probably come up with a Top Ten which would include the British Museum, the Tate Modern, the National Gallery, the Natural History Museum, the London Eye, the Science Museum, the V&A, Madame Tussaud’s Wax Works, the National Maritime Museum, and the Tower of London. Throw in St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey and you have a dozen of the most popular sites

Difficulty is not, of course, a reason to reject or ignore a poem. Especially in reading the poetry of the twentieth century, one often willingly assents to Allen Tate’s statement that “poetry . . . demands both in its writing and in its reading all the intellectual power that we have.” There is a distinction, however, between the difficulty of obscurity and the difficulty of complexity. The latter emerges naturally from any attempt to capture a new feeling or idea for poetry. But with Graham, as with so many self-consciously modernist poets, the difficulty seems to fall into the first category. Her poems are obscure because they seem unfinished, because they reside in the privacy of the poet’s mind and not in the public realm where poet and reader discuss things in common. As long as Graham asks the reader to fill in her blanks and solve for her x’s, she has not realized poetry’s greatest and most enduring possibilities.

The worm that devours the parasite that enables it to digest, and dies of it. The crustacean that wanders beneath the sea until it finds a fixed point. Once secured to that spot, it devours its own brain, which is now useless since it served it only to find this landing place. In this same way, we devour the Nothing that enables us to digest the world, and without which we cannot survive. But we cannot prevent ourselves from doing so - just as the scorpion cannot prevent itself from killing the frog that gets it across the river. Heavenly bodies are irresponsible - who would hold it against them? Ultimate responsibility is light years away. Contemporary art summed up by a London taxi driver outside Tate Modern: 'When you go in, you understand why it's free.

Amaca, normalde yaptığımızdan çok daha fazla dikkat etmeliyiz. Genelde şu soruyu sorma eğiliminde olmalıyız: Piramitleri (ya da Eyfel Kulesi'ni ya da Tate Modern müzesini) ziyaret edişim gerçekte ne için? Yani, bu benim hangi gerçek ihtiyacıma hizmet ediyor? "Onu kendi gözlerimle görmek istiyorum," ya da "Ölmeden önce yapılacaklar listemde var," ya da "Ünlü bir yer," demek yeterli değildir. Bu "nedenler" gerçek ihtiyaçlara karşılık gelmez. Nietzsche, hayatlarımıza daha değer vererek bakmamızı ister - dikkatimiz ve adanmışlığımız zor bulunan, boşa harcanmaması gereken değerli kaynaklardır.

It’s even possible to get there with art. Utterly modern painters like Vassily Kandinsky and Mark Rothko were expressly attempting to create spiritual, and maybe even shamanic, experiences with their paintings. If you sit in the Rothko room at the Tate Modern, you may find yourself slipping into connective consciousness and able to release something to find peace. As well as totally ‘organic’ practices

Southwark, the traditional home of bearbaiting, whorehouses, Elizabethan theatre, and now the Tate Modern. Built as an oil-fired power station by the same geezer who designed the famous red telephone box, it was one of the last monumental redbrick buildings before the modernists switched their worship to the concrete altar of brutalism. The power station closed in the 1980s, and it was left empty in the hope that it would fall down on its own. When it became clear that the bastard thing was built to last, they decided to use it to house the Tate’s modern art collection.

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