O ivory, delicate hands!
O face that hovers
Between ‘To-come’ and ‘Was,’
Ivory thou wast,
A rose thou wilt be.
·
O ivory, delicate hands!
O face that hovers
Between ‘To-come’ and ‘Was,’
Ivory thou wast,
A rose thou wilt be.
“Art lost its basic creative drive the moment it was separated from worship… It severed an umbilical cord and now lives its own sterile life, generating and degenerating itself… Today the individual has become the highest form and the greatest bane of artistic creation.”
Ingmar Bergman