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chowcollection
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On Damus settings you can opt in to one, but I found them to be unreliable and prefer to select text and translate using the translate button that appears there

That’s what I did!

“An expert, looking at a painting, should be able to determine the degree of tolerance of usury in the society in which it was painted.”

— Ezra Pound

Without clicking on the actual note, you’d be missing out on additional/original comments, and possibly the number/amount of Zaps as well

Yeah that’s like a partial solution because I’d want people to see the original note immediately

I don’t like that I can only “renote” once. If anything, there are notes that I’d want to share over and over again every day or every week! Or pinning is another way.

Replying to Avatar chowcollection

THAT AUDIENCE, OR THE BUGABOO OF THE PUBLIC, by Ezra Pound

The curse of a large audience is not its largeness but crassness of its criteria. A painter or writer who paints or writes for the multitude is, or becomes, a bad painter or a bad writer not because masterwork is incapable of wide distribution, but because masterwork is incapable of wide recognition immediately after its birth.

The artist must work for the few because there are only a few for whom he can really work. There are at no time more than a few hundred, or perhaps a few dozen, men who know at first sight whether a given work of any one living artist is that definite artist's best; whether it is actually the finest thing he can do or whether it represents a bad moment, a tired hour, a day when his head or his hand or both was, or were, being lazy.

When the artist ceases to work for this vigorous circle of harsh friends and priceless "enemies"; when he begins to work for the public who will buy his canvas or his copy for his name, careless of quality, incapable of knowing the quality, his work begins to decline.

He may have as much critical sense as you like, but little by little the effects of this living among profits and contentments will show itself in his work.

Pretentious people tell you that a work of art should give them pleas-ure; I once met a barrister who really thought I wrote with the express desire of arousing his approbation. The man has since "taken silk," but he is still incapable of learning that I am as indifferent to his opinion of my works as he would be to my opinion of the next probable winner of the Derby, or as an engineer or mathematician would be to my opinion on some technical matter of turbines.

Even a stupid man who had carefully looked at pictures, or turnips, or fat cattle for fifteen years, would probably know more about pictures, or turnips or fat cattle, than a clever man who had devoted only fifteen minutes to any one of these matters; yet you still find people who do not believe in the existence of experts.

THAT AUDIENCE, OR THE BUGABOO OF THE PUBLIC, by Ezra Pound

The curse of a large audience is not its largeness but crassness of its criteria. A painter or writer who paints or writes for the multitude is, or becomes, a bad painter or a bad writer not because masterwork is incapable of wide distribution, but because masterwork is incapable of wide recognition immediately after its birth.

The artist must work for the few because there are only a few for whom he can really work. There are at no time more than a few hundred, or perhaps a few dozen, men who know at first sight whether a given work of any one living artist is that definite artist's best; whether it is actually the finest thing he can do or whether it represents a bad moment, a tired hour, a day when his head or his hand or both was, or were, being lazy.

When the artist ceases to work for this vigorous circle of harsh friends and priceless "enemies"; when he begins to work for the public who will buy his canvas or his copy for his name, careless of quality, incapable of knowing the quality, his work begins to decline.

He may have as much critical sense as you like, but little by little the effects of this living among profits and contentments will show itself in his work.

Pretentious people tell you that a work of art should give them pleas-ure; I once met a barrister who really thought I wrote with the express desire of arousing his approbation. The man has since "taken silk," but he is still incapable of learning that I am as indifferent to his opinion of my works as he would be to my opinion of the next probable winner of the Derby, or as an engineer or mathematician would be to my opinion on some technical matter of turbines.

Even a stupid man who had carefully looked at pictures, or turnips, or fat cattle for fifteen years, would probably know more about pictures, or turnips or fat cattle, than a clever man who had devoted only fifteen minutes to any one of these matters; yet you still find people who do not believe in the existence of experts.

It was after that realization that I felt a strange kind of relief because then I could start branching out into all these other different mediums (egg tempera, mosaic, jewelry, woodcarving, etc.) as a fan and supporter rather than as a practitioner, because I was really curious about them and liked them, but not enough to take them up myself as an art student.

It became easier for me drop my desires to become a painter when I realized that there were far higher quality works that could be sponsored were I to take up the role of art patron and focus on that instead.