Friday, August 17, 2012

I choked and stalled then stopped. I miss the ones who have died.

Keats speaks poetically of the way in which artistic expression is reached when he tells of the “innumerable compositions and decompositions which take place between the intellect and its thousand materials before it arrives at that trembling, delicate and snail-horn perception of beauty.” Dewey,J. Art As Experience. (1934)The Berkley Publishing Group, page 71

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