I just say I'm an artist who works with pictures and words.
quote by Barbara Kruger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm an artist who works with pictures and words. Sometimes that stuff ends up in different kinds of sites and contexts which determine what it means and looks like.
quote by Barbara Kruger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Artist and Author.
The first artist painted the sky with colors, such beauty,
Look at those sunsets, and the mountains, such reality;
The mountains, have shadows, of splendor that only the Master can do,
Yes! It's God who was the first Artist, and He also taught me too.
The first great artist painted the colors on the sea,
Blues, greens, aquas, Only one could do this you see;
And when there is a storm near, the sea goes so dark blue,
Yes! God is the first great artist, to paint it for me and you.
The first great Artist, loved to teach David to write poetry,
And also king Solomon, writing words of such beauty;
Oh such magnificent works, of color and in each word,
Yes! There is only one who could do this it is the Lord.
Then. We see in every rainbow, and in each shell as well,
Look at the colored sands, and in every bird, it does tell;
Then look at each animal, and also the petals of each flower too
Then as you look at these, , give Thanks for doing it for me and you.
poem by Margaret Haig
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I think there are a lot of pictures to make. I sometimes question whether I'm even an artist or just a painter. To me, the making of the pictures is the most important thing.
quote by Martin Mull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Artist
The Artist and his Luckless Wife
They lead a horrid haunted life,
Surrounded by the things he's made
That are not wanted by the trade.
The world is very fair to see;
The Artist will not let it be;
He fiddles with the works of God,
And makes them look uncommon odd.
The Artist is an awful man,
He does not do the things he can;
He does the things he cannot do,
And we attend the private view.
The Artist uses honest paint
To represent things as they ain't,
He then asks money for the time
It took to perpetrate the crime.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet -Indelible Art?
How far an artist takes his art forward?
If labour hard is continued for long,
It dedication has not disappeared,
And Pride has not polluted his art’s song.
One's art improves if Will of God is there;
If Luck and Pluck come timely to his aid;
If vices poison not his mind to err;
And love enters his art when it is made.
For art lives longer than the artist's age;
And brings alive the beauty it derived;
All life, the artist must truly manage;
To perfect works of art in which he’d strived.
Such art alone will stand the test of time,
For it has made the Artist's life sublime.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Darling Is An Artist
My darling is an artist
who saves pictures, her impressions on a canvas
and sometimes deep things
are expressed by her mere words,
as she paints the sea green,
at times mother-of-pearl
or a dull blue
and I wonder how she does it?
With a brush she can warble
can charm and adorn things,
she can bring bewitching colours suddenly
to the early breaking day.
l'Envoi
My darling is an artist,
sometimes she muddles my whole life,
when her lips are sugary sweet
and she tells me the plain truth plainly.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Value Fever Pitch: An Artist’s Time
Bhoman F Jamhari said
'I am an artist - This does not
mean I will work for free.
I have bills just like you.
Thank you for understanding.'
Polite and to the problematic point.
Anyone who thinks believes
an artist’s time is worthless,
is definitely a person an artist
should avoid; such individuals
cannot comprehend
or remotely understand
aesthetic value of art.
Art takes time to produce.
Vision and artistic skill takes
even longer to realize to attain
expanding horizons. Time costs.
Artists of differing genre value
appreciate each other and art
which suits their temperament.
To create art
is the life blood
of an artist.
The air we breathe
is the home of art.
Creativity is our fevered mind songs
we sing in a legacy of image visions.
What kind of a con artist wants
to steal bread from an artist’s mouth;
therefore limiting the quality quantity
of future works of art, to be produced
by that artist. Answer an enemy of art.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The secret of all effective advertising is not the creation of new and tricky words and pictures, but one of putting familiar words and pictures into new relationships.
quote by Leo Burnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The secret of all effective originality in advertising is not the creation of new and tricky words and pictures, but one of putting familiar words and pictures into new relationships.
quote by Leo Burnett
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In other words the pictures are in a kind of relationship with each other which is touching only at points rather than pictures being illustrations of poems or poems extrapolations of the pictures.
quote by Peter Porter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Srivastav
Electric,
Fornsic,
Genetic;
I know that you are very brilliant and,
I need your muse!
And like the sweet muse of your love.
The serpent,
Carried away!
But, the earth opened her mouth and swallowed the flood;
And the inhabitants didi watch.
Your love is so delicious to me!
Your act is so sweet to me,
Your muse is so lovely to me,
But, i am Srivastav with the muse of love;
And, i have some jobs for you to take care of.
So nice and so delicious! !
My works,
My words,
Your works,
Your words,
His works,
His words,
Her works,
Her words;
And like the sweet muse of love!
But the new ones are like a welcome message to you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Creation is dominated by three absolutely different factors: First, nature, which works upon us by its laws; second, the artist, who creates a spiritual contact with nature and his materials; third, the medium of expression through which the artist translates his inner world.
quote by Hans Hofmann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pictures Of You
I've been looking so long at these pictures of you that I almost believe that they are real
I have been living so long with my pictures of you that I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel
Remembering you standing quiet in the rain as I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell and holding you close
How I always held close in your fear
Remembering you were the song through the night
You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow
Screaming at the make believe, screaming at the sky and you finally found all your courage to let it all go
Remembering you falling into my arms, crying for the death of your heart
It was stone white, so delicate, lost in the cold, you were always so lost in the dark
Remembering you, how you used to be, so proud you were angels, so much more than everything
Hope for the last time, it'd slip away quietly
open my eyes but I never see anything.
If I'd only I thought of the right words, I could have held on to your heart
If I'd only I thought of the right words, I wouldnt be breaking apart...
All my pictures of you
Looking so long at these pictures of you, I'd never hold onto your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true, but always just breaking apart.
My pictures of you
There is nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to never feel breaking apart
All my pictures of you
song performed by by Lit
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A man who works with his hands is a laborer; a man who works with his hands and his brain is a craftsman; but a man who works with his hands and his brain and his heart is an artist.
quote by Louis Nizer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Pictures Of You
I've been looking so long at these
Pictures of
You that i almost beleive that they're real i've
Been living so long with my pictures of you that
I almost believe that the pictures are all i can
Feel
Remembering you standing quiet in the rain as
I ran to your heart to be near and we kissed as
The sky fell in holding you close how i always
Held close in your fear remembering you
Running soft through the night you were bigger
And brighter and wider than snow and
Screamed at the make-believe screamed at the
Sky and you finally found all your courage to
Let it all go
Remembering you fallen into my arms crying
For the death of your heart you were stone
White so delicate lost in the cold you were
Always so lost in the dark remembering you
How you used to be slow drowned you were
Angels so much more than everything oh hold
For the last time then slip away quietly open
My eyes but i never see anything
If only i had thought of the right words i could
Have hold on to your heart if only i'd thought of
The right words i wouldn't be breaking apart all
My pictures of you
Looking so long at these pictures of you but i
Never hold on to your heart looking so long for
The words to be true but always just breaking
Apart my pictures of you
There was nothing in the world that i ever
Wanted more than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world that i ever
Wanted more than to never feel the breaking
Apart all my pictures of you
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An artist never works under ideal conditions. If they existed, his work wouldn't exist, for the artist doesn't live in a vacuum. Some sort of pressure must exist. The artist exists because the world is not perfect. Art would be useless if the world were perfect, as man wouldn't look for harmony but would simply live in it. Art is born out of an ill-designed world. This is the issue in Andrey Rubliov.
quote by Andrei Tarkovsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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No Pictures Of This Baby
No pictures of the baby
The baby that was me
No pictures of her innocence
Because innocence you no longer see
There is no proof it was ever there
That I was ever something more
Than someone who seems so fragile
Because you can’t see into my core
Don’t bother trying to save me now
Keep your words out of my head
I don’t need any more reasons
To wish that I were dead
You’ll never understand what you’ve done to me
But that information isn’t new
Just take a moment and try to imagine
Why my hate grew
No pictures of the baby
The baby that was me
No pictures of her innocence
Or her serenity
A few things you did take from me
Things I will never get back
Don’t try to apologise to me
Because it’s too late for that
poem by Anonymus Girl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whoever wants to know something about me - as an artist which alone is significant - they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognise what I am and what I want.
quote by Gustav Klimt
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pictures In The Sand
And Im gonna spend my time,
Drawing pictures in the sand for you.
And Im gonna ride the tide[? ],
And Im gonna make a rendezvous.
Sitting by the sea,
Sipping at my tea,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing message to you.
Pictures in the sand (drawing pictures in the sand)
There is nothing I would rather do (there is nothing I would rather do)
Than just sit here in the sand (drawing pictures in the sand)
And think of thinks Id like to say to you (I love you true)
Every single day (every single day)
I waste my time away,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing messages to you.
(all together)
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
Pictures in the sand.
If I didnt have a dime,
Would you still be loving me?
While I spend my whole life through,
Drawing pictures just for you.
But I could never draw my love,
Its so very hard to do.
Every single day,
I waste my time away,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing messages to you.
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
Pictures in the sand. (do-bum, do-bum...)
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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