“The asynarte city; two rhythms unconnected, profanity, holiness, and out of that strange bed, art.”
In this quote by Jeanette Winterson, the contrast between the profane and the holy is highlighted within the context of art. The use of the word "asynarte" suggests a lack of harmony or connection, reflecting the disjointed nature of city life. Despite this disconnect, Winterson suggests that art emerges from this dichotomy, serving as a bridge between the disparate elements of the city. The juxtaposition of profanity and holiness underscores the complexity and diversity of urban life, with art serving as a means of reconciling these conflicting forces. Overall, Winterson's quote emphasizes the transformative power of art in the midst of urban chaos.
Jeanette Winterson's quote, "The asynarte city; two rhythms unconnected, profanity, holiness, and out of that strange bed, art," continues to hold relevance in contemporary society. In a world filled with chaos and disconnection, there is a constant interplay between the profane and the sacred, giving birth to innovative forms of art and expression. This juxtaposition of contrasting elements serves as a reflection of the complexities and contradictions of modern life, inspiring artists to create impactful and thought-provoking works. Through this lens, Winterson's words shed light on the enduring power of art to emerge from the most unexpected places and situations, providing a means of understanding and navigating the asynarte city we all inhabit.
"The asynarte city; two rhythms unconnected, profanity, holiness, and out of that strange bed, art." - Jeanette Winterson
As we ponder on Jeanette Winterson's words about the asynarte city and its dual nature, it raises some thought-provoking questions about the complexities of life and art. Consider the following reflection questions:
How do you interpret the idea of the city having two unconnected rhythms - one profane and one holy? How do these contrasting elements coexist in society?
In what ways do you see art emerging from this juxtaposition of profanity and holiness? How does art serve as a bridge between these two worlds?
Reflect on a time when you have experienced the dichotomy of the profane and the holy in your own life. How did this experience influence your perspective on art and creativity?
How can we navigate the asynarte city in our own lives, embracing both the profane and the holy, to inspire our artistic endeavors and enhance our understanding of the world around us?
“Long looking at paintings is equivalent to being dropped into a foreign city, where gradually, out of desire and despair, a few key words, then a little syntax make a clearing in the silence. Art... is a foreign city, and we deceive ourselves when we think it familiar... We have to recognize that the language of art, all art, is not our mother-tongue.”
“Two things significantly distinguish human beings from the other animals; an interest in the past and the possibility of language. Brought together they make a third: Art. The invisible city not calculated to exist. Beyond the lofty pretensions of the merely ceremonial, long after the dramatic connivings of plitical life, like it or not, it remains. Time past eternally present and undestroyed.”
“Art is central to all our lives, not just the better-off and educated. . . I know that from my own story, and from the evidence of every child ever born — they all want to hear and to tell stories, to sing, to make music, to act out little dramas, to paint pictures, to make sculptures. This is born in and we breed it out. And then, when we have bred it out, we say that art is elitist, and at the same time we either fetishize art — the high prices, the jargon, the inaccessibility — or we ignore it. The truth is, artist or not, we are all born on the creative continuum, and that is a heritage and a birthright of all of our lives.”
“There's no such thing as autobiography, there's only art and lies”
“I went outside, tripping over slabs of sunshine the size of towns. The sun was like a crowd of people, it was a party, it was music. The sun was blaring through the walls of houses and beating down the steps. The sun was drumming time into the stone. The sun was rhythming the day.”
“The truth is that you can divide your heart in all sorts of interesting ways - a little here, a little there, most banked at home, some of it coined out for a flutter. But love cleaves through the mind's mathematics. Love's lengthways splits the heart in two - the heart where you are, the heart where you want to be. How will you heal your heart when love has split it in two?”