As an artist, I want to interpret my feelings - not run across the street and ask what my mother thinks.
quote by Ralph Bakshi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Mother In Law
(a. toussaint)
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
The worst person I know
Mother in law, mother in law
She worries me so
Mother in law, mother in law
If she leaves us alone
We could have a happy home
Sent from down below
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Satan should be her name
Mother in law, mother in law
To me theyre about the same
Mother in law, mother in law
Everytime I open my mouth
Steps in trying to put me out
How could you stood so low
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law
Come home with my pay
Mother in law, mother in law
She asks me what I made
Mother in law, mother in law
She thinks her advice is a contribution
If she would leave that would be the solution
Dont come back no more
Mother in law, mother in law
Mother in law, mother in law....
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why do you think?
Why do you think?
Other should think the way you think
Can you think the way they think?
Everybody thinks’
His way is the right way to think
Respect what people think
The way they think
You will find people
Respecting what and how you think
Everybody has the right to think
The way he thinks’ and what he thinks’
One can only tell what he thinks’
If they like it
They will approve what you think
No regrets, no hard feelings
Nobody loses, Nobody wins
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only an artist can interpret the meaning of life.
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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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 mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
instant of robustly blessed existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling
instant of victoriously effulgent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every
unfurling minute of poignantly charismatic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every
unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling
instant of endlessly bestowing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling
instant of Omnipresently benevolent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant
of limitlessly fructifying existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every
unfurling instant of boundlessly splendid existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every
unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every
unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling
instant of amiably melanging existence,
Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly
multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist….
poem by Nikhil Parekh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Express Their Depictions
An expression of an emotion,
Should come from one's experience.
As a feeling that personal and felt.
And yet...
Some express their depictions,
Of what another may confess...
As an opportunity to leave their own feelings,
Left unaddressed.
While attempting to interpret,
Those feelings felt by someone else.
To prove the limitation,
Of their own communication.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Copy nature and you infringe on the work of our Lord. Interpret nature and you are an artist.
quote by Jacques Lipchitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kawabata
No doubt
the crazy boy thinks
he's having his mother read
some sort of record
of his memories,
something that he wrote himself-
that's what he thinks
he's listening to.
His eyes sparkle
with pride.
His mother has no idea
whether or not he understands
what she's saying,
but every time
she comes to see him
she repeats
the same story,
and she gets better
and better at telling it-
it begins to seem like
she's actually reading a story
of her son's.
She remembers things
she had forgotten.
And the son's memories grow
more beautiful.
The son is drawing
the mother's story out,
helping her,
changing the story-
there's no way
of telling
whose novel it is,
whether it's the mother's
or the son's.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Only a bad artist thinks he has a good idea. A good artist does not need anything.
quote by Ad Reinhardt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We not only interpret the character of events... we may also interpret our interpretations.
quote by Kenneth Burke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strutting All Your Stuff On Main Street
On that avenue where your heartbreak is chased,
I follow you with wishes,
All your bitter kept feelings from you...
Fades away.
And I would see you,
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
I'd like to see you,
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
And with your head down like its been really tough,
Looking as if you're about to give life up...
But I wish,
You would 'dis' this to strut on Main Street.
Oh yes I miss you...
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
Just know I've done a boo-hoo too!
And that didn't do a thing to prove,
Anybody noticing would rescue...
Me from my grief to free it.
A public boo-hooing is not cool.
Since nobody will undo,
Your heartbreak that is felt.
Nobody else but..
Yourself to get over.
On that avenue where your heartbreak is chased,
I follow you with wishes to replace,
All those bitter feelings that you face...
To fade them away from your mind to stay,
And I'd see you...
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
Oh yes I miss you,
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
And I really want to see you,
Just strutting all your stuff on Main Street.
I'd like to see you,
Just strutting all your stuff.
With an attitude,
That you can't flaunt enough.
And doing that with a strutting that you do,
On Main Street.
I'd like to see you...
Strutting all your stuff on Main Street
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Close
Where’s the kid? Kirkehuse
asks. She’s in bed, she’s sleeping,
Mother says. About time; never
knew a kid to yak so much. She’s just
a child. She’s a yakker and she talks
too much. Mother cuddles up close
to Kirkehuse on the sofa as he sips
his booze. You’re too soft with her;
she gets away with things. When I
was a kid I kept quiet and did as I
was told and if I didn’t my old man’d
make sure I knew what’d happen if
I didn’t, Kirkehuse says. Mother kisses
his stubbly cheek. I try, she mutters.
Well, you don’t try hard enough.
The kid just yaks and thinks she knows
things she doesn’t. Kirkehuse looks at
Mother’s head of hair. He kisses her.
And what was that about the history
lesson, eh? She thinks we don’t know
about the Kennedys? Mother pulls at
the hem of her dress; he sips his booze.
She’s just trying to show she’s good at school,
Mother says. Kirkehuse pulls a face.
If she were my kid she’d know her place.
poem by Terry Collett
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On The Street
On the street
On the street
O, O, On the street
On the street
O, O, On the street
[Everybody dance]
[Watch for the difference]
On the street
{Breaking on broadway]
O, O, On the street
[Shaking on sunset strip]
On the street
[Like nobody booming supporting that]
Da, da, da, da, da ...
On the street
On the street
Dancing
On the street
On the street
Dancing
Dancing
On the street
On the street
[Twisting on the turnpipe]
Dancing
On the street
On the street
On the street ...
Da, da, da, da, ...
Dance on the street ...
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem For My Mother
I need a mother who loves me, who understands me and is there for me
A shoulder to cry on, someone to rely on
But now I am older I can see you will never be
the things I need you to be.
a mother wouldn’t make you cry
a mother would never say good bye
a mother would never cause you so much pain
or call you all those horrible names
a mother wouldn’t tell you they want to die
a mother would never to try to control
a mother would give you all her heart and soul
Everyday I always try to keep all these thoughts and feelings at bay
but it has come to a point where I have to have my say
I needed a mother who would never close the door, but now that you have I realise that me and you are no more.
I live with the hope that one day you will see, how much hurt your words and actions over the years have caused me.
poem by Mis Understood
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Creative Perceptions
Artist appropriate palette prepares
as poet intuitive channels and shares -
perceptions highlighted in paint or in rhyme,
on screen, paper, canvas, [b]rushed, touched outside Time.
Each reaches out writing, foresighting, prepares
stalls [f]rigid for music of spirit sublime.
But few can interpret the talent they praise
in the style of an artist in true paraphrase.
(24 September 2005 robi03_1306)
Bridgework
Artists palette, paints, prepare,
poets channel insight rare.
One canvas fills, one paper inks,
imagination interlinks.
Each respective stream compares
perceptions, self-respecting, thinks
perspectives sensitively, shares
intuitive fruition, links
symphonic patterns, well aware
individuals everywhere
sense beauty way beyond time's brink -
horizons widen, never shrink.
Images accompany
free originality.
(7 May 2008 variant of As Artist, Poet robi03_1396_robi03_0986 16 February 2002 robi03_0986 and also variant of Creative Perceptions
24 September 2005 robi03_1306_robi03_0986)
As Artist, Poet
As artists palette, paints, prepare
so poets channel insight rare.
One canvas fills, one paper inks,
the foremost and the least of links.
Both tune respective streams, compare
perspective, sensitively share
where, true to self there neither sinks
as each through intuitions thinks
the way to harmony, aware
that perfect strangers anywhere
may beauty sense beyond time's brink -
horizons widen, never shrink.
Both pictures form, accompany
creative thrust with spirit free.
(16 February 2002 robi03_0986)
for previous version see below
As Artist, Poet
As artists palette, paints, prepare
so poets insight channel, air: -
one canvas fills, one paper inks,
the foremost and the least of links.
Both tune respective streams with rare
sensitive perspective, care.
When true to self then neither sinks
as each through intuitions thinks
the way to harmony, to share
with perfect strangers anywhere
how beauty may beyond the brink
horizons widen, never shrink.
Both pictures form, accompany
creative thrust with spirit free...
(16 February 2002)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Nude Artist
A Nude Artist
he says he is a nude artist
because he is naked when he paints
such nakedness has
nothing to do with being a nude artist
a naked artist who paints a cat or a chicken
is not a nude artist
there is no nude cat
thyere is no nude chicken
just paint a naked woman
and he will be called a nude artist
an artist is not an art
he must know that
- Frog Mantra, Accents Publishing,2012 -
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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Man In The Street
Im not a happy guy
But Im not always sad
And Im no millionaire
But I dont do so bad
But no matter who you think you are
Theres always someone with a different view
Theres always someone thinks hes got a right
To say whats good for you
So how do you know
That the man in the street dont care
And why dont you care
When the man in the street dont know
Anyway
Im not a clever guy
But Im sure not that dumb
Dont have the inside news
But I know what goes on
And if you put your faith in God above
Or if you watch the skies for superman
Theres always times when you can see the answers
Slip right through their hands
So how do you know
That the man in the street dont care
And why dont you care
When the man in the street dont know
Anyway
So no matter who they think they are
As they tell you who to fight or how to dance
Why dont you give yourself a break
And give us all a chance
cause how do you know
That the man in the street dont care
And why dont you care
When the man in the street dont know
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm one of those people who thinks you can have a happy life and still be an artist.
quote by Shelley Duvall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I like to interpret 'Call me a River', as if I'm saying, 'Now you're telling me you love me after all that, and I'm telling you to shove off.' That's my interpretation. But I would never 'say' that because somebody else might interpret the song in another way.
quote by Diana Krall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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