Paul Outerbridge
[Photographer, b. 1896, New York, d. 1958, Laguna Beach, California.]

 What this country needs is more and better nudes. 

Roman Opalka
[Artist, b. 1931, Hocquincourt, France, d. 2011, Rome.]

 Art has a lot in common with madness. After all, why should one get involved with art? You can live normally like everyone else—which is to say, as stupidly as everyone else. 

Bill Owens
[Photographer, b. 1938, San Jose, California, lives in Hayward, California.]

 Photoshop is not in my vocabulary. I don’t need it because I have content. 

Georgia O'Keeffe
[Artist, b. 1887, Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, d. 1986, Santa Fe, New Mexico.]

 If they had known what a close relationship he would have needed to photograph [them] the way he photographed me—I think they wouldn’t have been interested. (On men who wanted Alfred Stieglitz to photograph their wives or girlfriends, 1922.) 

Dennis Oppenheim
[Artist, b. 1938, Electric City, Washington, d. 2011, New York.]

 You can’t understand how strange it was to be a sculptor who exhibited photographs. (On exhibitions of his “earthworks” and land art pieces.) 

George Orwell (Eric Arthur Blair)
[Writer, b. 1903, Motihari, Bengal, India, d. 1950, London.]

 It was true that there was no such person as Comrade Oglivy, but a few lines of print and a couple of faked photographs would soon bring him into existence... Comrade Oglivy, who had never existed in the present, now existed in the past, and when once the act of forgery was forgotten, he would exist just as authentically, and upon the same evidence, as Charlemagne or Julius Caesar. 

Catherine Opie
[Photographer, b. 1961, Sandusky, Ohio, lives in Los Angeles.]

 I’m glad there is a queer, out, dyke artist that’s being called an American photographer. 

Michael Ondaatje
[Writer, b. 1943, Colombo, Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), lives in Toronto, Canada.]

 You can see that the care he took defiling the beauty he had forced in them was as precise and clean as his good hands which at night had developed the negatives, floating the sheets in the correct acids and watching the faces and breasts and pubic triangles and sofas emerge. The making and destroying coming from the same source, same lust, same surgery his brain was capable of. (On New Orleans photographer E. J. Bellocq)