Museums are tombs, and it looks like everything is turning into a museum.

Questions about form seem as hopelessly inadequate as questions about content.

Painting, sculpture and architecture are finished, but the art habit continues.

Abstraction is everybody's zero but nobody's nought.

The scenic ideals that surround even our national parks are carriers of a nostalgia for heavenly bliss and eternal calmness.

A camera is wild in just about anybody's hands, therefore one must set limits. But cameras have a life of their own. Cameras care nothing about cults or isms. They are indifferent mechanical eyes, ready to devour anything in sight. They are lenses of the unlimited reproduction.

Parks are idealizations of nature, but nature in fact is not a condition of the ideal.