“I’m being deliberately harsh here for a reason. If we’re going to do great work, it means that some people aren’t going to like it. And if the people who don’t like it don’t have an impact on what happens to the work after it’s complete, the only recourse of someone doing great work is to ignore their opinion.”—Seth Godin
The doves have come. It is morning, or something like morning. They are nesting within the trees, diving into the underbrush. They do not want to be seen. They do not want to be heard. They cover themselves with wings, fall into sleep.
Take up a stone. Don’t be picky. Choose one, any one. Roll it in your palm. Put it in your pocket. Pull it from your pocket. Study it. Rub its smooth surface, its edges with your thumb. Forget it. Forget significance, weight. Throw it away. Take up another stone.
“Someday perhaps I will go around carrying only a book, a change of clothes, a pen, a water bottle, a folding umbrella, and a little capsule that turns into my livelihood when opened. Rollable hi-res screen and keyboard, tiny computer the size of a cell phone or smaller but as light as a pen, with high-speed satellite connectivity anywhere on the globe. In this world, my sleeping bag, pad and windproof hammock weigh only a pound put together. For half of the year I travel the world, alone and with companions, with a small bag slung over my shoulder like Kwai Chang Caine. We sleep outdoors, travel on trains, and a few days of the week sit some place cozy and create beautiful software or solve interesting problems that improve the world.”—Max Shron answers the question “What would be your dream setup?” (via viafrank)
Breath: pause, caesura, a break, the skip of a beat, your beat, the one I used to know.
Another breath: trying to breathe alone, the stench of the alley, or the homeless man drifting closer, Hey, pretty girl, alone again, maybe, maybe not - a jab to the ribs, solar plexus, a knife slid in, then out, not leaving a mark, only a small pucker, a little blood.
Or, breathlessness: almost seeing your slim form, its shadow, hearing the familiar laugh and wondering - breathe, breath broken, caesura, a long pause, another beat.
“Failure to create some form of predictability will result in chaos. Failure to create some sort of well-maintained Barbaric chaos inside the company guarantees that a fast-moving, ambitious, risk-taking and ruthless someone else - someone outside the company will invade, because they know what you forgot: hacking is important.”—Michael Lopp (via smarterthaniam)
“Art is a lie that tells the truth.” With so many quotes attributed to Picasso, it’s hard to track down where they actually came from, or whether they were even said at all.
In 1923, Picasso talked about cubism with an American critic named Marius de Zayas. The discussion was translated (with his approval) and published as “Picasso Speaks,” in The Arts. What Picasso is really talking about is cubism, and how much he’s not into “research” when it comes to painting. Here’s part of it:
When I paint, my object is to show what I have found and not what I am looking for. In art intentions are not sufficient and, as we say in Spanish: love must be proved by facts and not by reasons. What one does is what counts and not what one had the intention of doing.
We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies. If he only shows in his work that he has searched, and re-searched, for the way to put over lies, he would never accomplish anything.