Just because I'm playing jazz I don't forget about me. I play or write me, the way I feel, through jazz, or whatever.
Charles MingusRead
I never heard my music played the way I heard it in my head.
Interpretation
The quote expresses the gap between an artist's internal vision and the external manifestation of their work.
Charles Mingus's quote reflects the common struggle artists face in translating their inner creativity into a form that meets their expectations. Despite their best efforts, the reality of their work often falls short of the perfect vision they hold in their minds, underscoring the complexities and challenges inherent in the creative process.
In practice
An artist might include this quote in a speech at an art exhibition to highlight the challenges of creativity.
Just because I'm playing jazz I don't forget about me. I play or write me, the way I feel, through jazz, or whatever.
I am Charles Mingus, half black man, not even white enough to pass for nothing but black. I am Charles Mingus, a famed jazzman, but not famed enough to make a living in this society.
Jazz music is a language of the emotions.
Let my children have music! Let them hear live music.
My music is evidence of my soul's will to live.
It (jazz) isn't like it used to be. The guys aren't together. They're all separated. Individuals now. Bird was a symbol. It was a clique, a clique of people. Who all believed in one thing: gettin' high. And playin'.
Most people wouldn't know music if it came up and bit them on the ass.
I've never liked the word 'celebrity.' I like to photograph people who are good at what they do.
Mention the gothic, and many readers will probably picture gloomy castles and an assortment of sinister Victoriana. However, the truth is that the gothic genre has continued to flourish and evolve since the days of Bram Stoker, producing some of its most interesting and accomplished examples in the 20th century - in literature, film and beyond.
The rustling of the silk is discontinued, Dust drifts over the courtyard, There is not sound of footfall, and the leaves Scurry into heaps and lie still, And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them: A wet leaf that clings to the threshold.
If the urge to write should ever leave me, I want that day to be my last.
The reason dance has held such an ageless magic for the world is that it has been the symbol of the performance of living.
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