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I like photographs of anything uninteresting. maybe just two doors on a wall... the point is to be uninteresting.
-Robert Rauschenberg
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I Like Photographs Of Anything Uninteresting. Maybe

Robert Rauschenberg
I like photographs of anything uninteresting. maybe just two doors on a wall... the point is to be uninteresting.
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Wall Doors Two

More From Robert Rauschenberg

Maybe it’s my own fault. maybe i led you to believe it was easy when it wasn’t. maybe i made you think my highlights started at the free throw line, and not in the gym. maybe i made you think that every shot i took was a game winner. that my game was built on flash, and not fire. maybe it’s my fault that you didn’t see that failure gave me strength; that my pain was my motivation. maybe i led you to believe that basketball was a god given gift, and not something i worked for every single day of my life. maybe i destroyed the game. or maybe you’re just making excuses.
Basketball Pain Motivation
The death agony of the barricade was about to begin.for, since the preceding evening, the two rows of houses in the rue de la chanvrerie had become two walls; ferocious walls, doors closed, windows closed, shutters closed. a house is an escarpment, a door is a refusal, a facade is a wall. this wall hears, sees and will not. it might open and save you. no. this wall is a judge. it gazes at you and condemns you. what dismal things are closed houses.
Wall Doors Agony
Every year, the memories i have of my father become more faint, unclear, and distant. once they were vivid and true, then they became like photographs, and now they are more like photographs of photographs.
Memories Father Years
It is a nostalgic time right now, and photographs actively promote nostalgia. photography is an elegiac art, a twilight art. most subjects photographed are, just by virtue of being photographed, touched with pathos. ... all photographs are memento mori. to take photograph is to participate in another person's mortality, vulnerability, mutability. precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time's relentless melt
Photography Art Twilight
If i had been a different sort of person, maybe less impressionable, less intense, less fearful, less utterly dependent upon the perceptions of others - maybe then i would not have bought the cultural party line that thinness is the be-all and end-all of goals. maybe if my family had not been in utter chaos most of the time, maybe if my parents were a little better at dealing with their own lives maybe if i'd gotten help sooner, or if i'd gotten different help, maybe if i didn't so fiercely cherish my secret, or if i were not such a good liar, or were not quite so empty inside... maybe.
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Vanish. pass into nothingness: the keats line that frightened her. fade as the blue nights fade, go as the brightness goes. go back into the blue. i myself placed her ashes in the wall. i myself saw the cathedral doors locked at six. i know what it is i am now experiencing. i know what the frailty is, i know what the fear is. the fear is not for what is lost. what is lost is already in the wall. what is lost is already behind the locked doors. the fear is for what is still to be lost. you may see nothing still to be lost. yet there is no day in her life on which i do not see her.
Wall Night Blue
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I find it a bit sad that there is no photo of me hanging on the walls in the berlin museum at checkpoint charlie.
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Wake up, america. the insurance companies took over health care. wake up, america. the pharmaceutical companies took over drug pricing. wake up, america. the speculators took over wall street. wake up, america. they want to take your social security. wake up, america. multinational corporations took over our trade policies, factories are closing, good paying jobs lost. wake up, america. we went into iraq for oil.
Wall Oil Iraq
Our children will be born of our actions. our accidents will become their destinies. oh, the actions will remain. it is a simple matter of what you will do when the chips are down, my friend. when the fat lady is singing. when the walls are falling in, and the sky is dark, and the ground is rumbling. in that moment our actions will define us. and it makes no difference whether you are being watched by allah, jesus, buddah, or whether you are not. on cold days a man can see his breath, on a hot day he can't. on both occasions, the man breathes.
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I completely understand why a businessman would fire me from 'saturday night live'. because he was seeing jay leno kill 10 minutes a night, doing his monologue with wall-to-wall laughs and applause, then i do 10 minutes a week to, sometimes, breathtaking silence. he's just listening for the laughs.
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