The painting is not on a surface, but on a plane which is imagined. It moves in a mind. It is not there physically at all. It is an illusion, a piece of magic, so that what you see is not what you see.
quote by Philip Guston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Painting is an illusion, a piece of magic, so what you see is not what you see.
quote by Philip Guston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Card Trick
It's like magic—
The way that a shuffling card moves.
It's like magic,
A spectacular parlor trick,
The way a two of hearts removes
Itself from the stacking deck's grooves.
It's like magic.
By sleight of hand,
The illusion almost seems clear
To understand
‘Til the fantasy disappears.
Like magic, it will disappear.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Religion And Magic
Who are these fellows?
Religion - Magic
Are they siblings who seem remarkably similar?
Are they identical twins - fantastically alike in all things?
Are they but two sides of the same coin - the coin of illusion?
Which came first - religion or magic?
The answer remains shrouded in the dim mists
Of our early steps on the stage of our existence
Magic - creator of illusion masked as reality
Religion - creator of illusion from reality
Both create illusion - purvey the same mask
Magic and religion present illusion as truth
This is my view
Another may be for you
Yet know this - If you believe illusion be truth or truth illusion
The result is the same.
Claude H Oliver II
4/28/2012
poem by Claude H Oliver II
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Aearial Painting
Aerial Painting
The painting in the hall of an old bi-plane flying
a across a blue sky, was different this morning,
it had landed by a waterfall and the pilots stood
leaning against the plane’s fuselage slowly
smoking a cigarette, eyes closed enjoying every
moment, every inhale of scented tobacco.
I looked at the painting again the sky was dark,
there was lightning in the air the pilot had flown to
the front and collided with a barrage balloon,
the plane was a broken as thrown to the ground by
a spoilt boy who had wanted a fire-engine for his
birthday, and know only the blue sky prevails.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I no longer worry whether a painting is about something or not. I am only concerned with the expectation, from a flat surface, of an illusion.
quote by William Scott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Few Easy Pieces
Piece of this
piece of that
Peace and bliss,
Piece of crap
Peace of mind,
Piece of cake,
piece of work
Piece of steak,
Piece of eight
Piece of the action
Piece of the pie
Peace and satisfaction
Piece in the valley
Piece of glass
piece of my mind
Piece of a….
That’s quite enough now! ! !
Let’s quit this dance
Let’s stop while we’re ahead…
Let’s Give peace a chance
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Imagined
Imagined the world described as heaven
Imagined the world all is even
Imagined everywhere without evil
Imagined the absence of soldier only civil
Imagined a quest between good nature existence
Imagined people, place and body with no cause for defence
Imagined air, love, soul and all virtues show their face
Imagined the extinction of all the different race
Imagined we always praise him who live above
Imagined nature ruffs all calm like pure dove
Imagined that you are not imagining
But all this is happening
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A plane is a bad place for an all-out sleep, but a good place to begin rest and recovery from the trip to the faraway places you've been, a decompression chamber between Here and There. Though a plane is not the ideal place really to think, to reassess or reevaluate things, it is a great place to have the illusion of doing so, and often the illusion will suffice.
quote by Shana Alexander
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Strange Magic
Youre sailing softly through the sun
In a broken stone age dawn.
You fly so high.
I get a strange magic,
Oh, what a strange magic,
Oh, its a strange magic.
Got a strange magic,
Got a strange magic.
Youre walking meadows in my mind,
Making waves across my time,
Oh no, oh no.
I get a strange magic,
Oh, what a strange magic,
Oh, its a strange magic.
Got a strange magic,
Got a strange magic.
Oh, Im never gonna be the same again,
Now Ive seen the way its got to end,
Sweet dream, sweet dream.
Strange magic,
Oh, what a strange magic,
Oh, its a strange magic.
Got a strange magic,
Got a strange magic.
Its magic, its magic, its magic.
Strange magic,
Oh, what a strange magic,
Oh, its a strange magic.
Got a strange magic.
Strange magic strange magic
Oh, what a strange magic strange magic
Oh, its a strange magic.
Got a strange magic.
Strange magic strange magic
Oh, what a strange magic strange magic
Oh, its a strange magic.
Got a strange magic,
Got a strange magic,
You know I got a strange magic,
Yeah, I got a strange magic,
Oo-o-o-oo, strange magic. (fade)
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Love Is Like Magic
Love is....
Love is like Magic
But....
Sometimes Magic Be an illusion
But it always keep in the Heart
you can't never forget your LOVE
Love is like breathing
How can we stop to breath?
LOVE IS LIKE MAGIC
{BUT}
SOMETIMES MAGIC CAN BE AN ILLUSION
poem by Love Academy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Magic is seen
Obsure magic is known to some
To some magic is the most incredible thing that will
ever cross by their very eyes
Others don't believe in it and say that it's nonsense
I see magic without any doubt and am eager to
know why
Anxious to know the reason behind of all of this
No clues to count back to, it naturally happens
Magic is seen in my eyes
Preposterous mysteries that I will never understand
Unusual tricks on my mind are casting me in a illusion
Charms in its magic are found curious to me
I'm interested in how to find why this bizarre thing comes
by me
Surprising, crazy, and irrational and I still love it anyway
Striking conceptions are cryptic and are specified
Magic is a beloved out of the ordinary thing that I've learned
happens in uncertain ways
poem by Clara Diskley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wave Wet Sand
You are as reliable as a painting
In wave wet sand.
Look in your eyes and I cant see a thing,
That usually means attratction to me
Ive read all the books about love I could find,
And Ive found not one, no,
Not one word about mine -
cause you are reliable as a painting
In wave wet sand
Youre coming and youre going:
Like the water you never end.
cause you are reliable as a painting
In wave wet sand
And I am just another piece of an island
In reach for your hands
...feel my doubts when you are in my arms.
Darling: if you know that its love
And not charm
You must tell me so or go elsewhere to hunt.
cause you are...
Your love...
I am just another piece of an island
I cant close my ears when I hear that you call.
I dont want to fear every tear that could fall:
Ill go on my own, and pass people with doubts.
My goal is to find just a piece of your love.
Your love is - your love is like the water
You are like the water.
You are like the water.
You, you are my shore, and you know
You are my shore.
cause you are reliable like a painting...
I am just another piece of an island...
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Grand Illusion
I saw you in a dream, it hit me like a bright light
Flashing on a screen, visions of my whole life.
I used to chase the moment of desire
Back to when my young heart burned like a fire.
It was just a, nothing but a grand illusion.
Heart was quicker than the eye.
Nothing but a grand illusion,
Legend in my own mind.
I held you in my arms till the other side of midnight.
Kept you in my mind, you got me through some long nights.
Standing on the threshold of desire,
Caught between the madness and the fire.
Chorus
It was all a grand illusion.
Hand was quicker than the eye.
Nothing but a grand illusion,
Legends in our own minds.
I used to chase the moments of desire
Back to when my young heart burned like a fire.
It was just a, nothing but a, it was all a grand illusion.
Nothing but a grand illusion.
It was all a grand illusion,
Legend in my own mind.
It was just a grand illusion.
Nothing but a grand illusion.
It was just a grand illusion,
Legend in our own mind.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Girl With Magic Eyes
I sit in thought
My hand to head
My heart it wants to cry
My face turns sides
My smile sheds
The girl with magic eyes
The piece of mind
My eyes they tear
My brain it starts to fry
Vanished in air
I cannot hear
The girl with magic eyes
To see her face
Deep in my mind
My breath it starts to sigh
Touch her soft skin
I like this kind
The girl with the magic eyes
To breathe her smell
Just from a thought
I feel like I should die
To taste her lips
That I have fought
The girl with magic eyes
To have her close
Is all I want
I stare into the sky
Stuck to my dreams
My mind she haunts
The girl with magic eyes
poem by Paul Celano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Piece Of You
Im just trying to live this life of mine
The more I look, the more Im blind
And all I ask for is piece of mind
And all I want is a piece of you
Well I lost my way today
Back home from work
The snow fell like dust
I felt like dirt
Happens everytime I start to search
For that long lost piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
It seems the last time I was sure
Of anything
I sold my heart
I wore your ring
But now, the queen has lost her king
All I want is a piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The eyes of impressionism
Saints.
Like swans, gliding untroubled so it seems
to us, lazing on the river bank
of a Seurat summer Sunday afternoon,
gliding over the surface of the waters
as love perhaps, on that first day;
they as floating symbols
of the beauty beyond beauty;
their work, invisible to us who watch
Painters.
Like waterlilies, resting in perfection
on the surface of the waters
as love rests, sure of their own beauty;
painting just the sunlight
falling on things, moving on
more slowly than we see;
the depth of the waters
in the painter’s mind and heart;
his work invisible to us who watch
his dabbing at the canvas
as a dabchick bobs in the water, his mind
moving as time moves;
for him, sitting at the canvas,
always time present,
in the water-garden already on his palette
Cataracts.
How far a word from
the stillness around him as he sits,
his beard a little yellow from the nicotine,
seeing the waterlilies as if for the first time,
but each year the water seems to tell
more about time itself… like Proust;
where is time going in this painting?
Eyes.
Cataracts, yes; but perhaps over time
they too have sought to serve him,
become themselves, impressionists,
presenting him with images
prepared like canvasses are prepared;
gently watering inner gardens
between the eyes and mind
yes, that’s Monsieur Monet over there;
don’t disturb him; but if you stand
a little way behind him, you just may
enter the stillness around him,
enter the stillness of his mind,
see with his eyes, that work
invisible to those of us who watch
which swans and saints and artists know.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Magic
Theres a light in the sky that hangs on the edge of illusion
Something very fine but its something you know is there
Mystery of time hidden by a man of confusion
But the hand is quicker than the eye
Only the stranger knows why
cos its magic
You know its magic that youll find
You see its magic
I know who you are and theres magic in you
Keep your eye on the man
And dont look away for a moment
How is it done how does he make me see
Something up his sleeve when speaks you want to believe him
But the hand is quicker than the eye
Only the stranger knows why
cos its magic
Can you see its magic that youll find
You know its magic
I know who you are and theres magic in you
Driven by a force
Moving in another dimension
Here for today, gone for eternity
Seeking for truth hidden by the word of his wisdom
But the hand is quicker than the eye
Only the stranger knows why
Cant you feel its magic
You know its magic that youll find
I said its magic
I know who you are and theres magic in you
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Optical Illusion
Now an optical illusion
is when your eyes
play tricks on you.
It shows you things
that are not really there.
The old saying of only
half believe what you see
has more truth in it
than you would believe,
as we don’t always see things
the way they really are.
Take an abstract painting,
take a closer look at it
and see how many things
your mind can make there.
Watch the clouds
roll by overhead
and look at the different shapes
that are created there.
The next time you look at something,
just be aware
it could well be
an optical illusion there.
21-22 February 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Percieving magic
Magic, Is it real? what is it? Can you trust it? Can you see it?
Is magic a bunny being pulled from a hat?
Is magic a card trick, or is it a cion being pulled from behind a child's ear?
Can magic occur in a puff of smoke, or from a flick of a wand and a bibbity-bobbity-boo?
Is there such a thing as magic, or is it just all smoke and mirrors?
People say Love is magiacal, so does that mean love is magic, or magic is love?
If magic is all tricks and illusion of the mind, then is love real or is it our minds decieving us?
If love is magic, can you trust it, if you can't trust magicians?
Love may not be magic, but true love is the closest thing we can experience to real magic.
Love can be decieving, but where there is true love, there are no smoke, mirrors, or illusions.
If magic makes people happy, and if love is the closest thing we hav to magic, then why dosen't all the world love each other?
If we all spread a little bit of magic, wouldn't the world be a better, happier place to live?
There would be no more wars,
no more need people, and no more need for prisons.
We would all live in peace and harmony.
But this...this will never happen.
There will always be a war or a fight.
There will always be children crying.
There will always be pain and hatred.
We can't escape te ways of man, wether we cause these things or others cause them.
Our world will never be the great Utopia philosophers once imagined.
We must accept that these things will not happen,
But can't we at least try to make them better?
Isn't it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?
Wouldn't it be a far, far better thing we would do than we ever have done?
If these things are true, then why don't we act upon them?
Is it because we are selfish,
because we don't see anyone else trying,
or because it would just be too much trouble to add into our busy schedules?
No matter the reason, no matter the cause,
we need to start, we need to start now.
The more magic you spread, the more love will be spread around the world.
Love is a force of nature, it's unstoppable once in effect.
So is magic unstoppable to?
Is it real or is magic like that Utopia that was only a dream?
Science can't prove it, medicine can't prove it.
Love exists.
It's in our hearts, and it apreads and growns.
So if love is magic, then magic must exist.
Without it love would not exist.
Without love....without love
the world would not exist...we would not exist.
-samantha johnson burnsed
poem by Samantha Burnsed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bacolod 2012
it is not planned
but just the same i went there
i've been there many times
bathed in its hot spring
felt the coldness of its trees
and scaled the vastness of its
fullness
i stood on top of a hill
felt the sun
ached my eyes for its mountains
wrote about its beauty
nothing extraordinary
in a final note it is not about its name
or history
not even about a place
or anyone
not about myself, it is indescribable
it cannot be said
it cannot be thought for long
because once you settle upon it
longer than you wish
it too is gone away
and when you step upon the stairs of another plane
you forget and try to remember another place
no, not another person
it is this travel of non-attachment at all
the bed that you sleep last night
is no longer a bed
the table cloth that you stained with the sap of
the luscious ripe mango fruit is no longer a cloth
you are on top of the world
on top of the white clouds that block all view
from the earth from all memories
and you keep saying now and writing each piece
piercing you and you do not mean anything
it is just the passing and the going and the non stopping
out of your mind out of this world
out of what dissipates like light in darkness
it is cold you cover your face with the blanket of
the plane
and then you cease
that is the story that you have written
it is intended for no one
now, not even for this earth
or the imagined heavens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!