Donald Featherstone
and art is meaning, and meaning is power: power to color cats, to order chaos, to transform void into floor and debt into treasure. The best “Voices of a Generation” surely know this already; more, they let it inform them. It’s quite possible
David Foster Wallace • Both Flesh and Not: Essays
An artist is someone who uses bravery, insight, creativity, and boldness to challenge the status quo.
Seth Godin • The Icarus Deception: How High Will You Fly?
he seemed to have a wonderful kind of radiance about him.
John McDonald • The Message of a Master
Aja Singer • For The Love #4: Moving on From Millennial Pink
the reason I’d liked Boris and felt happy around him from almost the moment I’d met him was that he was never afraid. You didn’t meet many people who moved freely through the world with such a vigorous contempt for it and at the same time such oddball and unthwartable faith in what, in childhood, he had liked to call “the Planet of Earth.”
Donna Tartt • The Goldfinch: A Novel (Pulitzer Prize for Fiction)
“A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its beauty comes from the fact that the author is what he is. It has nothing to do with the fact that other people want what they want. Indeed, the moment that an artist takes notice of what other people want, and tries to supply the demand, he ceases to be an artist, and becomes a dull
... See moreTim Ferriss • 5-Bullet Friday — Chimp Discoveries, Lucid-Dream Tech, Sam Harris and Learning to Think, and More
What did Stan (the artist) just do? Well, first, surveying his little domain, he noticed which way his hobo was looking. Then he chose to change that little universe, by turning the plastic woman. Now, Stan didn’t exactly decide to turn her. It might be more accurate to say that it occurred to him to do so—in a split second, with no accompanying la
... See moreGeorge Saunders • A Swim in a Pond in the Rain: In Which Four Russians Give a Master Class on Writing, Reading, and Life
There was a lot of commentary in those days about the soul-sucking perils of conformity, of being nothing more than an organization man, the man in the gray flannel suit, a numb status seeker. There was a sense that the group had crushed the individual, and that people, reduced to a number, had no sense of an authentic self.