<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477535" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>When is a Painting Finished?</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I paint. <br>On my easel<br>pictures in oil and acrylic grow<br>like stalagmites in limestone caves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I think that painting is a magical act<br>that transforms invisible thoughts<br>and feelings into visible colors<br>and forms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I never can tell<br>when is the work finished.<br>After all it is always possible <br>to change a line, a hue, or a color<br>or even the whole composition.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Painters have different opinions<br>about this.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some say that when the artist<br>successfully planted<br>all the details onto the canvas<br>the image expresses itself<br>as a severed autonomous entity, <br>which frees the painter from<br>the task of continuing to paint.<br>From then on the painting gains<br>an independent inner life of its own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">However, abandoning a work of art<br>involves a moral decision<br>ripened by the stiffening tension<br>between skill, creativity and integrity. <br>At what point does the polished image <br>meet the artist’s expectations? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then, even if it does, <br>no single image can express<br>all that an artist wants to show, <br>and consequently his muses <br>compel him to carry on with his work<br>and create more paintings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hence the oeuvre of the artist<br>evolves as a set of different images <br>of the same single thrust and grind. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Many years ago I was wandering <br>through the countryside<br>of southern France in Provence. <br>Once I stopped to look at the road<br>where the village met the meadow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sturdy artist stood there<br>in front of his easel <br>painting the landscape <br>with skilful brushstrokes <br>on a well-stretched canvas.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stared for a while <br>at the burgeoning picture<br>and then asked him: <br>“How do you know<br>when is the composition complete? ”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He gave me a piercing glance.<br>“Well”, he said, <br>“if you take a hammer<br>and hit me on the head<br>I know that the painting is finished.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Paul+Hartal">Paul Hartal</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=477535" data-title="When is a Painting Finished? de Paul Hartal" data-description="I paint. On my easel pictures in oil and acrylic grow like stalagmites in limestone caves. I think that painting is a magical act that transforms invisible thoughts and feelings into visible colors and forms. But I never can tell when is the wo..."></div> </div> </div>

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