Most artists are notoriously insecure, and I fall into that category.
Divinity is accident of nature, magic is the work of an art.
The artist must manage to make posterity believe that he never existed.
An artist’s work is one long conversation with life.
Too Clear, too clean. The problem was precision, perfection; the problem was “digitization” which sucked the life out of everything that got smeared through its microscopic mesh. Film, photography, music: dead. “An aesthetic holocaust!
The last thing we discover in composing a work is what to put down first.
When dealing with writers it breaks down like this: a regular writer is your average everyday megalomaniac. Like every artist, there’s a part of them that believes–nay, knows–the world turns for them. Most are harmless....
Usually, I cut songs by other people that are artists that I already love.
I have a long-standing history of respecting artists’ wishes.
An artist’s work never leads anywhere except to the unknown.
Before, I could only guess oh who I was. Now, thanks to my art, I know who I am.