Artist Quotes - Page 15

Quando ouvimos os sinos, ouvimos aquilo que já trazemos em nós mesmos como modelo. Sou da opinião que não se deverá desprezar aquele que olhar atentamente para as manchas da parede, para os carvões sobre a grelha, para as nuvens, ou para a correnteza da água, descobrindo, assim, coisas maravilhosas. O génio do pintor há-de se apossar de todas essas coisas para criar composições diversas: luta de homens e de animais, paisagens, monstros, demónios e outras coisas fantásticas. Tudo, enfim, servirá para engrandecer o artista.

Fascinated by the great symbols of the collective history, I use them as an alphabet to communicate.

Each artwork requires its own design

We may never pick up a paintbrush or sculpt a masterpiece, but each one of us—without exception—is an artist in our own way.

Her body is one big refrigerator, where Art is well stored.

I have always noticed that these artists and writers are very unbalanced

...I fell asleep and had a dream that a king was liquidated by a group of kind faces...

To get from the tangible to the intangible (which mature artists in any medium claim as part of their task) a paradox of some kind has frequently been helpful. For the photographer to free himself of the tyranny of the visual facts upon which he is utterly dependent, a paradox is the only possible tool. And the talisman paradox for unique photography is to work "the mirror with a memory" as if it were a mirage, and the camera is a metamorphosing machine, and the photograph as if it were a metaphor…. Once freed of the tyranny of surfaces and textures, substance and form [the photographer] can use the same to pursue poetic truth" (Minor White, Newhall, 281).

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.

All art is a revolt against man's fate.

An artist sees not only the thing, but he also hears its inner voice.

All forms of art are parallel expressions. Writing is not unlike painting or other artistic endeavors. Each artistic endeavor is an expression of the mystery of the world. The job of the artist is to deepen that mystery, express reverence for the mystery of life, and explore the enigmatic aspects of human nature.

For an artist, there's nothing better than having the opportunity to create a world that doesn't- but could- exist.

It starts off like climbing a tree or solving a puzzle - poetry, if nothing else, is just fun to write. But deeper into each and every piece, you no longer hesitate to call it work. It's passion. A poet's sense of lyrical accomplishment is then his food and water, his means of survival.

Women, the most beautiful things in the world,” answers the model. As if it’s the only thing worth painting, as if everyone should aspire to it. Normally coming from a guy that answer would sound so incredibly skeezy—a greasy, obvious pick-up line. But something about this guy’s earnest tone tells me he means it." -from Model Position by Kitsy Clare

Houses, housetops, like human beings have wonderful character. The lives of housetops. The wear of the seasons. The country is beautiful, young, growing things. The majesty of trees. The backs of tenement houses are living documents.

All art is a form of vulnerability because at least part of the artist goes into the piece.

Here’s to the “so-so-ing” it.Here’s to the working since I was 14 in a smoke clouded day. Here’s to saying I could stay until the forms were faxed.Here’s to driving home past dark and dozing off the road.Here’s to no over time.Here’s to the long line to management.Here’s to ALREADY DONE THAT!Here’s to quitting, saying I’m through, saying I can’t compete for your leftover lean cuisine. Here’s to art. Here’s to freedom. Here’s to saying God gave me every penny and knowing it’s true. Here’s to the next 40 years with you.Here’s to the new.— Adrianna Stepiano

I should ask if it was good for you," Miles murmured, "but given that evidently you acquired the answer to life, the universe, and everything, it must have been-excuse the word-cosmic.

The artist (I suppose) usually pays for the privilege by some sort of partial insomnia, by the possession of one faculty that will not be controlled nor put to sleep. In a poet this must often be the visual imagination, bringing before his eyes a succession of images which he never summoned, and of which some (it is only too likely) will be ugly or pitiful.

Literature will save me it's the only certainty i am sure of.

When you judge your art with number of likes you get in response to it, you're killing the artist within, and giving rise to an entertainer.

My heart balloons with admiration for these talented artists, which I so desperately want to be

Her thoughts drifted to Tyler Dunn... to the feeling of being held in his arms. Wistfulness curled through her heart and she wished for the freedom to enjoy the attention of a man... to indulge in a lady-like flirtation... to fall in love. Although the wishes weren't new, for the first time, she had someone to weave the fantasy around. She could easily paint a romantic dream of living here with Tyler. But, Lily knew that dreaming about such a life would only make it harder to live with her reality. Yet, she couldn't help imagining him in the pool like this, naked as a newborn babe, yet all man.

My mother supported my every artistic ambition. I don't wonder why. I'm beyond grateful. But when I think of my grandparents barely surviving the war, I feel so pampered. What an indulgence to be an artist. So this is it, this is all I can offer, to the living and to the dead.

I’m in awe of you, Rowan Palotay,” he said softly. “And plan to make love to you for the rest of the night, but right now, I want you to be a good cowgirl and ride me.”tHis finger hooked around the string of her panties, and he tugged them down and off. “The boots stay on.

Practical affairs task the human brain throughout the day. At night, the mind takes a deserved hiatus to consider the impossible and the absurd. In the carnage of our nighttime sleep tussles, the colored liqueurs of the true, the possible, fantasy, and the mythic beliefs become intermixed. Eyelets of the commonsensical and the imaginative are incorporated, and a new realism emerges out of our distilled perception of the veridical derived from the phenomenal realm of sensory reality and the philosophic world of ideals contained in the noumenal realm. The resultant psychobiologic vision immerses us in bouts of intoxicating inspiration and artistic stimulation and leaves us rickety boned and weakened after enduring a dreaded hangover of perpetual doubt laced with vagueness and insecurity.

People say 'I love Artists', but what they really know about Artists? They've ever thought about sharing the real madness with us? I believe those extreme passions/emotions in me separated from the real world is the sauce to pull out the inspirations out of me that touch the core of people's hearts, which is usually wandering about deep inside of you unconsciously covered with the social taboo called 'common sense'.

For me, a paint brush is the only tool I use extensively in my works, to push paint on canvas and conduct melodies. And that's exactly what Garden Avenue is, and all of my projects after that.

When they asked Michelangelo how he made his statue of David he is reported to have said "It is easy. You just chip away the stone that doesn't look like David."

Remember it all, every insult, every tear. Tattoo it on the inside of your mind. In life, knowledge of poisons is essential. I've told you, nobody becomes an artist unless they have to.

You must make love to him like his touch is your salvation.

The longer Ellen Cherry thought about it, the more convinced she became that the mission of the artist in an overtechnologized, overmasculinized society was to call the old magic back to life.Could it be done? Yeah, you pessimistic wimps, it could. Could she do it? Probably not, but she could give it a whirl.

Art is a positive "FORCE" that bring beings together for the common good. Only the people who had lost a piece of themselves can create the unimaginary.

For the artist himself art is not necessarily therapeutic; he is not automatically relieved of his fantasies by expressing them. Instead, by some perverse logic of creation, the act of formal expressions may simply make the dredged-up material more readily available to him.

I don't paint what people expect, I paint what my heart yearns to express.

When you aren't satisfied with what has already been done, make something better. That is the greatest responsibility and the true freedom of creativity. The freedom is in that it doesn't need to complain.

Koekebakker, I feel so strange inside.' 'Well you certainly smell like jenever,' I said. 'No,' Japi said, ' it's not the jenever. I think my soul is too big.

Art-making is not about telling the truth but making the truth felt

Show me a person who found love in his life and did not celebrate it with a dance.

The artist cannot hold back; it is impossible, because writing, or any other discipline of art, involves participation in suffering, in the ills and the occasional stabbing joys that come from being part of the human drama.

I worried I would miss it, and I knew, from losing Wyatt, that things happen the moment the soul is released. Wyatt had been there in the school, watching me, making sure I survived. Souls linger…they do. They linger a bit before they turn toward eternity. It could be that no matter how perfect their future will be, the past still tugs for a moment.

A poet is simply an artist whose medium is human emotions.  A poet chisels away at our own sensibilities, shaping our vision while molding our hearts.  A poet wraps words around our own feelings and presents them as fresh gifts to humanity.

...unforgivingly, and forcefully magnificent...

When a man devotes himself body and spirit to a single object, if he has training and aptitude, no matter how mediocre he may be in ordinary affairs, he will produce something so nearly akin to a work of genius as to deceive half the judges who think themselves competent to decide between genius and talent.("The Phantom Model")

The cheap no matter how charming how immediate does not wear so well. It has a way of telling its whole story the first time through.

Dance as the narration of a magical story; that recites on lips, illuminates imaginations and embraces the most sacred depths of souls.

The philosophical study of beauty, art, and the splendor of nature nurtures a person’s fertile mind by exposing a person to the puzzling world of the beautiful, elegant, ugly, and grotesque. Human beings ability to experience sublime pleasure emanates from a variety of sensory experiences and a person’s ability to make discriminatory observations and judgment in taste and sentiment.

Art isn't something you marry it's something you rape.

There are no lines in nature, only areas of colour, one against another.

But will you not have a house to care for? Meals to cook? Children whining for this or that? Will you have time for the work?" "I'll make time," I promised. "The house will not always be so clean, the cooking may be a little hasty, and the whining children will sit on my lap and I'll sing to them while I work.

He gave us music that reached into the ear like a lover's tongue and changed the color of our feelings. He presented movement so exquisite and fluid it coaxed our souls out of our bodies to dance with him, weightless in the perfume of divinity.

There is, perhaps, no more dangerous man in the world than the man with the sensibilities of an artist but without creative talent. With luck such men make wonderful theatrical impresarios and interior decorators, or else they become mass murderers or critics.

I assert that the art of sculpture, among all the arts connected with design, is at least seven times greater than any other, for the following reason: why, sir, a statue of true sculpture ought to have seven points of view, which ought all to boast equal excellence.

I treat my thoughts like an old person treats their valuables: I cannot for the life of me proceed to throwing them out.

I can’t make a first impression like the one I made on you. That would be horrible.”t“Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?”tRowan made her ‘are you for real?’ face. “I think it’s safe to say getting tangled in dog leashes and then having one of the dogs urinate on you ranks up there with worst first impressions ever.”t“I’d classify it as most memorable…. I knew right then my life would never be the same.

How did Adam do it? He seemed to be able to look past Miles's weirdness and insecurities and awkwardness to see Miles, himself, what he was-whatever he was-inside.

Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.

Does it not occur to people that I might be artificial by nature?

Artists are not in delusion, they only recreate the hidden side