Quotes by David Cronenberg

When youre in the muck you can only see muck. If you somehow manage to float above it, you still see the muck but you see it from a different perspective. And you see other things too. Thats the consolation of philosophy.

Reality is neurology, and is not absolute.

Censors tend to do what only psychotics do: they confuse reality with illusion.

On to some juicy French philosophical sex-killing murder-suicide cannibal thing. You?”“Still the controversial Hungarian breast-cancer radioactive seed implant treatment thing. I adore y

The only authentic literature of the modern era is the owner’s manual.

But so strong is our desire for meaning, an innate desire, that we construct meanings where there are none.

We can’t worry about meaning. Ari proposed to us that meaning is a consumer item. Some people manufacture it through religion, philosophy, nationhood, politics, and some people buy it. But an artist is not a manufacturer.

I have no rules. For me, its a full, full experience to make a movie. It takes a lot of time, and I want there to be a lot of stuff in it. Youre looking for every shot in the movie to have resonance and want it to be something you can see a second time, and then Id like it to be something you can see 10 years later, and it becomes a different movie, because youre a different person. So that means I want it to be deep, not in a pretentious way, but I guess I can say I am pretentious in that I pretend. I have aspirations that the movie should trigger off a lot of complex responses.

Send these images of me through the internet out into the universe, where I will continue my out-of-body existence.

Its my conceit that perhaps some diseases perceived as diseases that destroy a well-functioning machine actually turn it into a new but still well-functioning machine with a different purpose. The AIDS virus: look at it from its point of view. Very vital, very excited, really having a good time. Its really a triumph if youre a virus. See the movies from the diseases point of view. You can see why they would resist all attempts to destroy them. These are all cerebral games, but they have emotional correlatives as well.

As an artist you look into yourself to understand the human potential to be all kinds of things that are not necessarily pleasant but are real - a criminal, a murderer, a sadist, a rapist; to be all of these things that many people are. You cant allow yourself to say, Im a different species from those people. Because you arent.The criminal as monster is kind of common. Thats very convenient because you can then say, Of course Im not a monster, therefore Im not a criminal therefore I have no potential in tern of criminality. And that lets you off the hook. That gives you a nice wall between yourself and them.

I was aware that I was taking inordinate pleasure in small, technological events and objects, and that this was probably a semiconscious tactic meant to evade confronting certain agonizing life events which were probably not resolvable and were destined to cause unrelenting pain and distress; yet the pleasure was real, and I took it greedily.

Since I see technology as being an extension of the human body, its inevitable that it should come home to roost.

Nathan seemed to have absorbed his sense of journalistic ethics from old movies about newspaper reporters. For Naomi, internet sampling ad scratching was a completely valid form of journalism, presenting no ethical clouds on its open-source horizon.

She and Naomi had joked about the sexuality of camera apertures, that they needed to write a woman’s monograph on the symbolism and cultural relevance of the mechanics of image-making as it related to sex, so that, for example, stopping down the fixed 35mm lens’s diaphragm – elegantly composed of nine shutter-leaf blades – to a tight f/16 would be the equivalent of a Kegel pelvic floor exercise.

We’re all photojournalists now. It’s no longer enough just to write.

He wouldnt perform without a recording now, she was certain, like a poet working in the oral tradition who had been contaminated by the advent of the recording device and so insisted that all improvisations be saved for posterity.

Somehow, Naomi was of another, newer, generation than Nathan, despite the fact that they were the same age. Nathan seemed to have absorbed his sense of journalistic ethics from old movies about newspaper reporters. For Naomi, internet sampling and scratching was a completely valid form of journalism, presenting no ethical clouds on its open-source horizon. To not be photographed daily, even by oneself, to not be recorded and videoed and dispersed into the turbulent winds of the net, was to court nonexistence.

To not be photographed daily, even by oneself, to not be recorded and videoed and dispersed into the turbulent winds of the net, was to court nonexistence.

I apologize to my priestess. I underestimated her. I equated her with the global media, which is where I found those easily digestible raw materials for my banal and bourgeois account of My Life with Poor Terminal Celestine. There are so many blogs and articles in the Living sections of online newspapers pouring out the synthetic emotions and the mundane details and the shocking bodily consequences of any disease you can think of or even invent. Honestly, Celestine and I felt we had to fully understand the phenomenon of the internet, because consumerism and the internet had fused, they had become one thing, even though on a certain level it was anathema to us, noxious to the strange, introverted, and, yes, relentlessly snob personal culture we had spent years developing together. But also we realized we needed the net in order to understand what was the basic human condition, what a current human being really was, because we had lost touch with that, our students made that clear to us, and so we were also using the internet to research our roles playing normal human beings.