Related quotes: The artist discards all theories,...

The artist discards all theories, both his own and those of others. He forgets everything when he is in front of his canvas.

quote by Georges Rouault
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Empty Canvas

the canvas is juxtaposition
images colour movement time
time shifts in thought shifts

empty mind space canvas
is whatever artist declares
canvas is painted to be

empty canvas is whatever
canvas is painted to be
endless pigment possibilities

poem by Terence George Craddock
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When you give an artist a canvas, you shouldn't tell him exactly how much paint to put on it, or exactly how sharp the images should be. You should let the artist get going.

quote by Reed Hundt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whatever an artist's personal feelings are, as soon as an artist fills a certain area on the canvas or circumscribes it, he becomes historical. He acts from or upon other artists.

quote by Willem de Kooning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The changing wisdom of successive generations discards ideas, questions facts, demolishes theories. But the artist appeals to that part of our being which is not dependent on wisdom: to that in us which is a gift and not an acquisition — and, therefore, more permanently enduring. He speaks to our capacity for delight and wonder, to the sense of mystery surrounding our lives; to our sense of pity, and beauty, and pain; to the latent feeling of fellowship with all creation — and to the subtle but invincible, conviction of solidarity that knits together the loneliness of innumerable hearts: to the solidarity in dreams, in joy, in sorrow, in aspirations, in illusions, in hope, in fear, which binds men to each other, which binds together all humanity — the dead to the living and the living to the unborn.

quote by Joseph Conrad
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When is a Painting Finished?

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 work finished.
After all it is always possible
to change a line, a hue, or a color
or even the whole composition.

Painters have different opinions
about this.

Some say that when the artist
successfully planted
all the details onto the canvas
the image expresses itself
as a severed autonomous entity,
which frees the painter from
the task of continuing to paint.
From then on the painting gains
an independent inner life of its own.

However, abandoning a work of art
involves a moral decision
ripened by the stiffening tension
between skill, creativity and integrity.
At what point does the polished image
meet the artist’s expectations?

And then, even if it does,
no single image can express
all that an artist wants to show,
and consequently his muses
compel him to carry on with his work
and create more paintings.

Hence the oeuvre of the artist
evolves as a set of different images
of the same single thrust and grind.

Many years ago I was wandering
through the countryside
of southern France in Provence.
Once I stopped to look at the road
where the village met the meadow.

A sturdy artist stood there
in front of his easel
painting the landscape
with skilful brushstrokes
on a well-stretched canvas.

I stared for a while
at the burgeoning picture
and then asked him:
“How do you know
when is the composition complete? ”

He gave me a piercing glance.
“Well”, he said,
“if you take a hammer
and hit me on the head
I know that the painting is finished.”

poem by Paul Hartal
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As An Artist

As an artist,

I carefully paint
a picture on my
canvas

with each stroke
I wipe away a tear

causing a smile to
reappear

As an artist

I endow your face
with my brush

making it more
perfect as I go

until at last the
image of my love
I see.

poem by Heather Burns
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Sleep well

A trade man fails to sleep;
An artist forgets to sleep;
An enemy fears to sleep;
Be content to sleep well.

An insane fail to think;
A criminal forgets to think;
A debtor fears to think.
Be calm to think well.

A blind fails to see;
An idiot forgets to see;
A lazy one shelves to see.
Be open to see well.
05.01.2010
[ inspired by a tamil verse written by m/s T. Shanmugapriya, B.Com. I year, Muthayamma Arts College, Rasipuram, Tamil Nadu ]

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Canvas

Oh how she loves her canvas,
The stories that it tells.
Oh how she loves to paint her thoughts,
And etch a perfect spell.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
The memories that it holds.
Oh how she loves to trace the lines,
And tell if new or old.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
Her stability in an unstable world.
Oh how she loves to fret away,
At all of her unfurled.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
A standstill of art and truth.
Oh how she loves the feel of it,
To reminisce her youth.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
A long work of her life.
Oh how she loves the twisted colors,
Splashes of red upon white.

Oh how she loves her canvas,
She crafts each inch with care.
She hides her canvas well away,
Though she often earns a stare.

Do not tell of her canvas,
Keep the secret- she insists.
But perhaps some time take a second glance,
For her canvas is her wrist.

poem by Dayna Mortimore
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A Perfect Painting

Perfect painting

An azure, sinless sky
a whisper of white clouds
and a yellow sun.

The canvas was big
but the painter got bored
walked home.

It rained in the night
canvas, dark and ominous
the artist was contented.

Painting, just the way
it was intended,
but he didn´t bother to sign it.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Waitin’ In Line

Have you ever had that feeling,
that you are wasting your time,
whenever you are waitin’ in line?
You see someone at the front,
always seem to get the best.
You seem to be last in line,
and only get what’s left.
Sometimes my friend,
the last in line do get the best.
The ones in front,
tries the goods and discard them easily.
While the one at the back keeps
hold of everything, they get.
While the one at the front,
so quickly forgets.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Artist

He stands at no easel, he mixes no paint,
He colours no canvas to gladden the eye,
Yet the picture he makes will not fade or grow faint
Till our love of the chase shall desert us and die.
He's an artist of parts
Who appeals to the hearts
That can thrill to good hunting and hounds in full cry.
By his seat in the saddle, his touch on the reins,
His skill and his mastery, who can gainsay
That here is an artist in all that pertains
To the horse and his handling - a real R.A. ?
An artist 'twould irk
Not to cut out the work
When the hats are crammed down and a fox is away.
You will find him no centre of salon or crush,
No letters attached to his name may he sign,
But there's no one so eager to handle the Brush
And there's none so consistently found on the Line.
If an artist you ask,
Here's the man for the task,
Making pictures where keenness and courage combine.

poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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I am an artist. The track is my canvas, and the car is my brush.

quote by Graham Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream With You

(doug hopkins? )
? lays in the dark all day
She waits for the sun to go down
And in her novel we appear
To change her moods around
Well she forgets you now
Well she forgets you now
And girls like that they own the world
Theyll sell you what you need
On languid streets you search for her so ? in her sleep
Well she leads you on
Well she leads you on
Dream with you
Well she could only dream with you
And the distance keeps her warm
Her letters talk of things shes seen
Her silence what shes learned
Reminsce and drink with them
To hasten her return
Well she forgets you now
Well she forgets you now
Well she forgets you now
Well she forgets you now
Dream with you
Well she could only
And the distance keeps her warm
Dream with you
Well she could only
And the distance keeps her warm
Dream with you...

song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Are Not God

With a perishable faith
I was guided towards you for love
where I come to you like a blank paper
where desire wants to see success
and not a darkness of uncertainty
but after a long journey of
my aesthetic sense of soul
where all the theories and notions are failed
in front of visual imaginations
I find a new visionary status
that there's an illusion of faith..
which is the reason of my perplexity
i need to know the existence of love
But, the condition is 'if you are not God'
not to be the God is only my reliable source
it may be humane or something else but not God
which can lead to the glory of my heart not God
and if you are not God
I am ready to follow you whatever you say
this is heart to heart not heart to unknown
where my origen is a reflecting mirror
and the hidden combination of soul and body,
with a large canvas of aspirations

poem by Seema Gupta
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Sometimes She Forgets

If you see her out tonight
And she tells you that it's just the lights
That bring her here and not her loneliness
That's what she says but sometimes she forgets
If she tells you she don't need a man
She's had all the comfort she can stand
You best believe every word she says
But don't give up 'cause sometimes she forgets
And sometimes she forgets that not too long ago she swore
She wasn't gonna let her heart be broken anymore
So now she keeps it locked away
And it grows colder everyday
And it won't warm to any man's caress
That's what she says but sometimes she forgets
And sometimes she forgets that not too long ago she swore
She wasn't gonna let her heart be broken anymore
If you see her out tonight
And she tells you that it's just the lights
That bring her here and not her loneliness
That's what she says but sometimes she forgets
Yeah, that's what she says, but sometimes she forgets
So don't you dare give up 'cause sometimes she forgets

song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A revised schedule is to business what a new season is to an athlete or a new canvas to an artist.

quote by Norman Ralph Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The artist always knows how to cultivate the state of the human soul on his canvas, he is the one who always paints the image of the inner reality.

quote by Camelia Oprița (3 March 2011)
Submitted by Alexander
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Theories of evolution must provide for the creative acts which brought such theories into existence.

quote by Michael Polanyi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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SS Demons

I artist
razor at throat
painted

a canvas life crime

I artist
fish hooks in flesh
wrote

a Holocaust Files.

Why is it popularist
history
remembers only half...

12 million killed, tortured
enslaved by vile sub-human SS
demons during World War II?