Artist Quotes - Page 14

Would Turner have slept through such terrific drama? Absolutely not! Anyone in my business who slept through that would be a fool. I don't keep office hours.

A storm is an artist who passes by on her way to paint your rainbow.

In every human being there is the artist, and whatever his activity, he has an equal chance with any to express the result of his growth and his contact with life. I don't believe any real artist cares whether what he does is 'art' or not. Who, after all, knows what art is?

Write the masterpiece that has not been written.Sing the masterpiece that has not been sung.Paint the masterpiece that has not been painted.Create the masterpiece that has not been created.

She was a gypsy, as soon as you unravelled the many layers to her wild spirit she was on her next quest to discover her magic. She was relentless like that, the woman didn't need no body but an open road, a pen and a couple of sunsets.

Restoration is a skilled profession. You might even call it an art in its own right, except that it is frowned on to be original. First rule of restoration: follow the intention of the artist. Never try to improve on him.

You say great artists sell their souls for their art?""Maybe," she ventured."That's true, I suppose. If you're doing it right, anyway. I've probably sold mine. Jack's certainly sold his. And you, I imagine.""I have not!" she said, anger showing clear in her eyes. "Not literally," he said hastily. "But we give up being a person to be an artist, don't we?

Quiet birds rob the universe of beautiful symphonies.

Artists are cannibals. We consume other artists, and they become part of us—flesh and bone—only to be spewed out again in our own works.

Frowning, Shiloh forced herself to look up at him. Roan deserved her courage, not her cowardice. “You wanted to kiss me.”t“I still do.

An artist may visit a museum but only a pedant can live there.

The philosophers write about things as they are and as they appear to be, but as an artist I find that appearance is everything.

Instead of chasing the idea of truth, what we should be doing is embracing the medium of drawing and using it for a purpose that fulfils our needs as an artist or designer.

El Sueno de la razon produce monstrous. (The sleep of reason breeds monsters)

Just as little as a reader today reads all of the individual words (let alone syllables) on a page—rather he picks about five words at random out of twenty and "guesses" at the meaning that probably belongs to these five words—just as little do we see a tree exactly and completely with reference to leaves, twigs, color, and form; it is so very much easier for us to simply improvise some approximation of a tree. Even in the midst of the strangest experiences we will still do the same: we make up the major part of the experience and can scarcely be forced not to contemplate some event as its "inventors." All this means: basically and from time immemorial we are—accustomed to lying. Or to put it more virtuously and hypocritically, in short, more pleasantly: one is much more of an artist than one knows.

Your creation was the god's way of showing humans that, the artist in him is still alive.

I turn to Willa Cather’s quote: Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness. The stupid believe that to be truthful is easy; only the artist, the great artist, knows how difficult it is.

You have to keep doing it, Even if no one is watching. The best artists, are those Who live from their expressions, Not chasing the impressions.

You know you possess the soul of an artist when, each time you sit down to create, the whole universe lays itself at your feet.

A work of art is the trace of a magnificent struggle.

Artists are the flowers of our world. The best ones are those who can stand out from the crowd by becoming a memorable flower — one that moves us, inspires us, and makes us think hard. A flower with no smell to it is just something to look at. A flower that emits a beautiful fragrance is the one we want in our homes and on our walls. Your mission as an artist, is to become the best-smelling flower in the world, so that when the day finally comes when you are plucked from the ground, the world will cry for the loss of your mind-stimulating fragrance. Be different. Be original. Nobody will remember a specific flower in garden loaded with thousands of the same yellow flower, but they will remember the one that managed to change its color to purple.

A brilliant mind was first a listener that observed the actions of the people that loved and hated them, then found a way to express their feelings, when real communication was lost.

The history of time is captured by poet, artist, writer, photographer…!

Hopper’s paintings are full of women like her; women who appear to be in the grips of a loneliness that has to do with gender and unattainable standards of appearance, and that gets increasingly toxic and strangulating with age.

All art forms possess liberty beyond space and time, yet grounded by urgency of now, and a breath of truth.

If God could transcribe my heart, it'd still read "I love you".

A bad magician never gets the good props.

I'm a Baroque person. More than Baroque, I'm a Rococo person. I don't draw straight lines.

Some art are meant to cut shortstretching them unnecessary makes it dull.

Nothing I do is natural, realistic, organic or accidental. I'm never spontaneous, I'm completely premeditated.

You were born an original work of art. Stay original always. Originals cost more than imitations.

When one admires an artist it is important not to know him personally.

The thing about being a screenwriter, scriptwriter, or scenarist, You get to have multiple personalities and not be charged!

There's nothing an artist needs more - even more than excellent tools and stamina - than a deadline.

Every person who is really an artist desires to create inside of himself another, deeper, more interesting life than the one that actually surrounds him.

Love is like a magic trickYou know you are getting fooled, but still, you stand in lineAnd pay to see it again and again.

Knowledge was scattered treasure, education organized it into art, commerce and science.

Creating art is paradoxical because an artist seeks to express truth by penetrating and destroying illusions. Art is always the outpouring of a mind striving to achieve the impossible reconciliation of all the fragmented shards that make people human: frivolous amusements, idle moments, feelings of tenderness and pain, stored memories, future expectations, and unquenchable thirst to experience love and witness beauty.

Words come alive from a page or script because both the writer and actor were brave enough to neither deny or invent their truth

The artist stands on the human being as a statue does on a pedestal.

Art does not reproduce the visible rather it makes it visible.

She puts away four small plastic cups of red wine and then stares at a painting of a topless girl with a large silver sword for a half hour and then she begins to think: You call this art? This isn’t art! This is a joke! All of you are a joke! Fuck you and fuck Jeff Koons and the rest of those ‘80s art-star wannabes. Where’s the art that makes people weep? Where’s the art that makes people want to go to church? None of this is the least bit interesting. All of this stuff, all of this is so self-aware. It’s for ironic art snobs. I want something brilliant. I want something stunning. I want something that makes me look in wonder…

The absence of models, in literature as in life, to say nothing of painting, is an occupational hazard for the artist, simply because models in art, in behavior, in growth of spirit and intellect--even if rejected--enrich and enlarge one's view of existence. Deadlier still, to the artist who lacks models, is the curse of ridicule, the bringing to bear on an artist's best work, especially his or her most original, most strikingly deviant, only a fund of ignorance and the presumption that as an artist's critic one's judgement is free of the restrictions imposed by prejudice, and is well informed, indeed, about all the art in the world that really matters.

I am the eye that beholds... And I am the dreamer that paints the stars in the night sky... For I am the one they call artist, and you call Love.

Great artists need great clients.

Wasted tries, The many whys, Is it the soul of Compromise? Lows and highs, Believing in lies, In life we have to improvise. Frustration and cries, The last leg of sighs, You are the dreamer in disguise! To the guilt say goodbyes, Open your eyes, Your soul - I do so recognize.

You can't stumble into an adventure. An artist must dance, not walk, in order to inspire their audience. This patient audience who has witnessed all that you've ever performed. So don't be shy. Just dance. Set this scene into motion.

Every artist joins a conversation that's been going on for generations, even millennia, before he or she joins the scene.

Find what makes you happy and go for it with all your heart. It will be hard, but I promise it will be worth it.

Anything can be art: painting stairs, raising a child, or organising a trip to the end of the world. It's the way you live that makes you either an artist, or an art connoisseur, or an unsatisfied critic.

The Marquesa would even have been astonished to learn that her letters were very good, for such authors live always in the noble weather of their own minds and those productions which seem remarkable to us are little better than a day's routine to them.

Here, this is for you," the girl said, holding out one of the pages on which she'd been drawing."Oh, I... well, thank you." Meg reached out and took the sketch between her fingers.Gazing down, her eyes widened. Instead of the typical childish scribble she'd expected, she discovered two well-rendered figures. The style was a bit loose, and still immature with a tendency to distort the proportions. Even so, it was refined enough enough to have captured remarkably accurate likenesses of her and Cade seated side by side on the sofa. Esme might be only be nine years of age, but already she was an exceptional artist, better than many adults would ever hope to be."This is... extraordinary," Meg said."It's you and Cade," the girl offered, clutching a small fist against her yellow wool skirt. "Do you like it?""I most certainly do. How could I not? You've drawn Cade and me so perfectly. It's beautiful."The girl's oval features came alive with a pleased smile. "Good night, Miss Amberley. I'm glad you're going to be my sister."At a sudden loss for what she knew would never be, Meg settled on the only honest reply she could offer."Sweet dreams, Esme.

Artists show us what we blind to.”Baris Gencel

Perfectly written isn't human, exact replicas aren't flawless and thinking you have to achieve them all is futile. Seek to write and create what deeply moves you and only then will the words and work you create feel perfectly flawless.

My great longing is to learn to make those very incorrectnesses, those deviations, remodellings, changes of reality, so that they may become, yes, untruth if you like - but more true than the literal truth.

Only after a writer lets literature shape her can she perhaps shape literature. In working-class France, when an apprentice got hurt, or when he got tired, the experienced workers said, "It is the trade entering his body." The art must enter the body, too.

I wanna be forever young.

What I say is misdirection, what you see is an illusion and what results is magic.

Being passionate about something is the most beautiful characteristic you can develop.

Shiloh had never seen a man who was a hunter. But she saw one now. There was an intense feeling around Roan, raw and untamed, as he studied her, his nostrils flaring to catch her scent. He ruthlessly dug into her opening eyes, reading her, trying to understand where she was at within herself and what she wanted from him.t“This is your call,” he said, his voice low and guttural.