Things were sort of Bohemian in Montmartre - one lived, one painted, one was a painter - all that doesn't mean anything, fundamentally.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I was somewhat out of place among my classmates; I could not be as bohemian as they were.
I was constantly being around artists and Bohemian types.
You know I was curious - I was interested in all kinds of mystery or deeper meanings in the paintings because I myself have not analyzed why they have turned out like this or like that.
I guess I was the most unbohemian of all bohemians. My bohemianism consisted of not wanting to get involved with the stupid stuff that I thought people wanted you to get involved with - ... namely America... Dwight Eisenhower, McCarthyism and all those great things.
I am inspired by the appearance of a bohemian of the new millennium. I thought it was necessary to update the figure of the bohemian, but not in the traditional way.
Art can help a town by attracting a certain Bohemian population that adds life to the bars, character to the streets and a buzz to the name. Employers may then follow. But art can't do much if every town does it. There aren't enough Bohemians.
The Upper Bohemia people wore tuxedos in an art gallery, and Lower Bohemia was all of us.
Perhaps all artists were, in a sense, housewives: tenders of the earth household.
I was not a collective person or a bohemian; I was an elitist.
I realised the bohemian life was not for me. I would look around at my friends, living like starving artists, and wonder, 'Where's the art?' They weren't doing anything. And there was so much interesting stuff to do, so much fun to be had... maybe I could even quit renting.