Well, painting today certainly seems very vibrant, very alive, very exiting. Five or six of my contemporaries around New York are doing very vital work, and the direction that painting seems to be taken here - is - away from the easel - into some sort, some kind of wall, wall painting.
Looking into it a bit, Jamie found that the model used by Wall Street to price LEAPs, the Black-Scholes option pricing model, made some strange assumptions.
The model used by Wall Street to price trillions of dollar's worth of derivatives thought of the financial world as an orderly, continuous process. But the world was not continuous; it changed discontinuously, and often by accident.
Seven years I worked at the Polish deli. It's a very slow deli. So I sat around a lot on my stool at the cashier. And I'd sign my autograph on all the bags I'd put the milk in. Just everyday, practice my autograph. And the manager of the store would take some of them and tape them against the wall. And he'd say, "Some day, I'm telling you, it will be worth something." And I'm like 13, going, "Really?!" And when I go back there, he still has them on the wall. It's very cute.
That's the words: "So I'm back to the velvet underground" - which is a clothing store in downtown San Francisco, where Janis Joplin got her clothes, and Grace Slick from Jefferson Airplane, it was this little hole in the wall, amazing, beautiful stuff - "back to the floor that I love, to a room with some lace and paper flowers, back to the gypsy that I was."
Poetry, is the insulation that lies between the inner walls of the mind.
There isn't any wall, however high, however wide or however big, whatever it is made from, that can bar you from achieving a better life. There isn't any wall or pit that is in front of you to stop you from achieving a future of wellbeing.
Humans are not as unsophisticated as mulch wrigglers, they can see the writing on the wall. Is it any surprise, that among the ones who look outward, the real debate is not over whether to run, but over how far and how fast?
The first cup caresses my dry lips and throat, The second shatters the walls of my loneliness, The third explores the dry rivulets of my soul Searching for legends of five thousand scrolls. With the fourth the pain of past injustice vanishes through my pores. The fifth purifies my flesh and bone. With the sixth I commune with the immortals. The seventh conveys such pleasure I am overcome. The fresh wind blows through my wings As I make my way to Penglai.
I kept.. ..returning to the (ancient Roman) wall paintings with their veiled melancholy and elegant plasticity.
I consider my painting finished when my eyes goes to a particular spot on the canvas. But if I put the picture away about thirty feet on the wall and the movements keep returning to me and the eye seems to be responding to something living, then it is finished.
Make a small painting of what you want to do... and project it up on a white wall... The enlarged version is so changed that there is no way of just visualizing it in the brain... It's a whole new dimension in painting.
Art is the space between the viewer and the rectangle that hangs on the wall. Unless something of the person that created the work is there, there's nothing for the viewer to take away.
If there is writing on Hadrian's Wall, it reads that the English should leave Scotland to its own devices.
The world is a stone wall ... and they have put the stones so close together that there is not a single crack through which one may enter.
The truth is, everything we know about America, everything Americans come to know about being American, isn't from the news. I live there. We don't go home at the end of the day and think, "Well, I really know who I am now because the Wall Street Journal says that the Stock Exchange closed at this many points." What we know about how to be who we are comes from stories. It comes from the novels, the movies, the fashion magazines. It comes from popular culture.
People who are intolerant, categorize and over-react... should all be dragged against a wall and shot.
At home the very walls lend you strength.
Remember, you cannot be responsible for the happiness of other people. You can do your best to be sensitive to the needs and desires of others, but some people will not be happy no matter how much you do for them. If you decided you were responsible for their happiness, you could drive yourself completely up the nearest wall.
Mutual funds are an overrated investment heavily promoted by Wall Street.
There was sex, of course. Nakedness. Wall to wall, in and out of my thoughts. But when it was over it was her whispering voice I craved, and a human curled up in my arms.
All this talk of using tax policy to 'assess social costs'...what a dumb idea. The only way to stop polluters is to put them against walls and shoot them.
A precious place is Paradise and none may know its worth, But Eden ever longeth for the knicknacks of the earth. The angels grow quite wistful over worldly things below; They hear the hurdy-gurdies in the Candle Makers Row. They listen for the laughter from the antics of the earth; They lower pails from heaven's walls to catch the milk-maids mirth.
When works of art are presented like rare butterflies on the walls, they're decontextualized. We admire their beauty, and I have nothing against that, per se. But there is more to art than that.
In fact, of all hoodoos in Wall Street I think the resolve to induce the stock market to act as a fairy godmother is the busiest and most persistent.
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