A Quote by Jimmy White

I used to think of exhibitions as being practice but they are not. — © Jimmy White
I used to think of exhibitions as being practice but they are not.
When I was young, I had one of those Yamaha drum machines, and I used to practice to that quite a bit, just to practice soloing and being in time and completing all my phrases.
I have a publishing company of books by me and books of others. It drew people to poetry readings and photo exhibitions and painting exhibitions that I've been doing for years before that.
Works of art often last forever, or nearly so. But exhibitions themselves, especially gallery exhibitions, are like flowers; they bloom and then they die, then exist only as memories, or pressed in magazines and books.
The way anything is developed is through practice practice practice practice practice practice practice practice practice and more practice.
When I was a kid, I remember I used to hide under the bed sometimes because I didn't want to go to practice. Even when I didn't want to go to practice, it could be pouring rain outside, and I'd be like, 'Yes, no practice today,' and my mom would be there, and we were still going, and we'd have practice under the pavilion.
I don't often go to curator or artist walk-throughs of exhibitions. For a critic, it feels like cheating. I want to see shows with my own eyes, making my own mistakes, viewing exhibitions the way most of their audience sees them.
There's so much spontaneity involved, what do you practice? How do you practice teamwork? How do you practice sharing? How do you practice daring? How do you practice being nonjudgmental?
To think that practice and realization are not one is a heretical view. In the Buddha Dharma, practice and realization are identical. Because one's present practice is practice in realization, one's initial negotiating of the Way in itself is the whole of original realization. Thus, even while directed to practice, one is told not to anticipate a realization apart from practice, because practice points directly to original realization.
I think in Phoenix Phoenix is like the run and gun team. We used to do a drill where we'd try to score in the first seven seconds. We used to do that in practice.
While in college, we used to go for art exhibitions, theatre shows and music concerts. I have spent a lot of time around Mandi House. At that time, Bharangam Theatre Fest used to be a big thing, and it was a total delight watching plays and performing at the fest.
For me, the making of exhibitions has always had to do with dialogue: a concentrated, in-depth, focused dialogue with artists, who keep teaching me that exhibitions should always invent new rules for the game.
[Positive mental attitude] is a practice, you gotta practice. I practice being still.
This question, Is loving your enemy a life practice?, I like that question. It is a life practice, certainly, for everyone. It relates to the idea of, Is this a householder practice or is it a monk practice? I think it's both. Everyone has that practice.
I used to think that to become free you had to practice like a samurai warrior, but now I understand that you have to practice like a devoted mother of a newborn child. It takes the same energy but has a completely different quality. It's compassion and presence rather than having to defeat the enemy in battle.
And I came away from that experience, and it was a very difficult experience - I came to understand that you have to practice at being a good father and practice at being a good husband, just as you have to practice at being a good journalist.
You have as much computing power in your iPhone as was available at the time of the Apollo missions. But what is it being used for? It’s being used to throw angry birds at pigs; it’s being used to send pictures of your cat to people halfway around the world; it’s being used to check in as the virtual mayor of a virtual nowhere while you’re riding a subway from the nineteenth century.
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