Related quotes: I always thought that one...

I always thought that one of the reasons why a painter likes especially to have other painters look at his or her work is the shared experience of having pushed paint around.

quote by Chuck Close
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

There are all sorts of reasons why I don't do much work in the theatre, the main one being that after two performances I feel I've given all I can. I hate repetition, I really do. It's like asking a painter to paint he same picture every day of his life.

quote by Peter Cushing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Painter Man

Went to college, studied arts
To be an artist make a start
Studied hard, gettin my degree
But no one seemed to notice me
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Tried cartoons and comic books
Dirty postcards could have done
Here was where the money laid
Classic art has had its day
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Did adverts for t.v.
Household shops and brands of tea
Labels all around the cans
Who wanna be a painter man
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
La...la...la...la...la...la...
La...la...la...la...la...la...la...
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man

song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

I paint German artists whom I admire. I paint their pictures, their work as painters, and their portraits too. But oddly enough, each of these portraits ends up as a picture of a woman with blonde hair. I myself have never been able to work out why this happens.

quote by Georg Baselitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

She Likes It Too

(jack turner/tim nichols)
I got my first motorcycle when I turned sixteen
I remember my mama raisin cane with me
She said, son tell me why you want to ride that thing
She didnt know about the blonde at the dairy queen
I got my own reasons why I do what I do
I like to ride motorcycles
She likes it too
I like to ride motorcycles
She likes it too
I always wore my hair just a little too long
Daddy didn;t like it and he made no bones
If Id have gotten it cut like he wanted me to
She wouldnt have had nothin left to run her fingers through
I got my reasons why I do what I do
I like to wear my hair long
She likes it too
I like to wear my hair long
She likes it too
I remember ridin around with my buddies back home
Listenin to some country on the radio
When they tried to change the startion to some rock n roll
Id turn the opry up just as loud as it would go
I got my reasons why I do what I do
I like country music
She likes it too
I like country music
She likes it too
I got my own reasons
Why I do what I do
I know what I like
She likes it too
I know what I like
She likes it too
Yeah I know what I like
And she likes it too

song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Every good composition is above all a work of abstraction. All good painters know this. But the painter cannot dispense with subjects altogether without his work suffering impoverishment.

quote by Diego Rivera
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

The Painter (Ang Pintor)

The Painter...
He colored the sky
He colored the sea
and even the mountains
and the field.

The Painter...
He colored the roses
and even the birds
and animals
in the farm.

The Painter...
even my life...
He colored.

But the Painter,
I guess no one
have seen Him yet.

The Painter...
can anyone paint the colors
of His life?

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I make movies just as painters paint: I work where I can.

quote by Jean-Jacques Annaud
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

Today painters do not have to go to a subject matter outside of themselves. Most modern painters work from a different source. They work from within.

quote by Jackson Pollock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

A Painted House Is Like A Poem.

In a way-A house painter is like a poet...
The house painter or average person just might not know it.

A lot of cleaning, sanding and preparation of the surface takes care and time...
Compositions, editing and thought polishes the rhyme.

When finished, they both are a work of art...
A lot of sweat and work is done by the artist's own part.

In the end, a finished polished piece...
Makes the artist, happy and at peace.

The work is finally done...
What hard work, finished-Now
feelings of enjoyed fun.

poem by Michael Gale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Builder Has Finished Build Well

Builder has finished build well
Only the painter to paint good
Wish he paints bright and peace
Builder has finished build well

Who the builder? who the painter?
Light your search to find rather
Builder has finished build well
Only the painter to paint good

poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Canvas (Part 2)

We last left off with such the fright,
She paints—but gasp! —that's not quite right,
For every story has a twist,
And every painting is done on her wrist.

She paints with—sorry? —with little regard,
To what may bleed and what may scar,
But oh, she paints a lovely spar,
Despite the way that most things are.

Some find it funny and watch as she flees,
Others feel sick the moment they see,
Because a painter, she can't have much of a life,
If all of her painting is done with a knife.

This painter—in fact—she thinks she's alone,
Because of the burden of problems at home,
And then there's her mind, a nasty old place,
It's mostly the cause of the paintings she makes.

But one can be trapped, or one can be freed,
Though most painters like her find this hard to believe,
Yet this very painter broke free of her sadness,
And if she ever wonders 'why? ' she can look at her canvas.

poem by Dayna Mortimore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A thousand painters ought to be killed yearly. Say what you like: I'm every inch a painter.

quote by Paul Cezanne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Work

Work never killed anyone,
Smithers said, a fair day’s
work for a fair day’s pay.

You continued to paint
the wall, your hand rising
and falling with the brush.

Tell that to those who died
in Auschwitz and other camps
or the archipelago of gulags
in Russia, you moodily replied.

Those were foreigners in
different times and different
places, he said, your average
person never died from the
labours of over work.

The paint was an awful green,
the wall was bland, above,
a window allowing dim light.

Some stilled died from labours
pushed to the limits, you sighed.

Smithers scratched his ass
and said, there’s always those
who’ve shirked and died.

You stood back watching
the paint dry, on a freshly
painted white glossed door,
was caught a fly, wriggling in
the stickiness, waiting to die.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sonnet: There Are Reasons for All Things

There must be reasons for the shaking leaves;
There must be reasons for the swaying trees;
There must be reasons for the drying sheaves;
There must be reasons causing any breeze.

There must be reasons for the waves at sea;
There must be reasons for ripples in pond;
There must be reasons for the sea briny;
There must be reasons for a mutual bond.

There must be reasons for the changing climes;
There must be reasons for both drought and rain;
There must be reasons for good and bad times;
There must be reasons for a boon or bane.

There must be reasons for all things on earth;
But not much reasons why men sin since birth!

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Painter Song

If I were a painter
I would paint my reverie
If that's the only way for you to be with me

We'd be there together
Just like we used to be
Undertneath the swirling skies for all to see

And I'm dreaming of a place
Where I could see your face
And I think my brush would tak eme there
But only...

If I were a painter
And could paint a memory
I'd climb inside the swirling skies to be with you
I'd climb inside the skies to be with you

song performed by by Norah Jones from Come Away With Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Sonnets LXXIV: LXXV:LXXVI: Old and New Art

I. ST. LUKE THE PAINTER

Give honour unto Luke Evangelist;
For he it was (the aged legends say)
Who first taught Art to fold her hands and pray.
Scarcely at once she dared to rend the mist
Of devious symbols: but soon having wist
How sky-breadth and field-silence and this day
Are symbols also in some deeper way,
She looked through these to God and was God's priest.
And if, past noon, her toil began to irk,
And she sought talismans, and turned in vain
To soulless self-reflections of man's skill,—
Yet now, in this the twilight, she might still
Kneel in the latter grass to pray again,
Ere the night cometh and she may not work.

II. NOT AS THESE

'I am not as these are,” the poet saith
In youth's pride, and the painter, among men
At bay, where never pencil comes nor pen,
And shut about with his own frozen breath.
To others for whom only rhyme wins faith
As poets,—only paint as painters,—then
He turns in the cold silence; and again
Shrinking, “I am not as these are,” he saith.
And say that this is so, what follows it?
For were thine eyes set backwards in thine head,
Such words were well; but they see on, and far.
Unto the lights of the great Past, new-lit
Fair for the Future's track, look thou instead,—
Say thou instead, “I am not as these are.”

III. THE HUSBANDMEN

Though God, as one that is an householder,
Called these to labour in His vineyard first,
Before the husk of darkness was well burst
Bidding them grope their way out and bestir,
(Who, questioned of their wages, answered, “Sir,
Unto each man a penny:”) though the worst
Burthen of heat was theirs and the dry thirst:
Though God has since found none such as these were
To do their work like them:—Because of this
Stand not ye idle in the market-place.
Which of ye knoweth he is not that last
Who may be first by faith and will?—yea, his
The hand which after the appointed days
And hours shall give a Future to their Past?

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

It is going to be an experiment of how it works, and I see I have all reasons to believe that it will work fine. But it's a short time. And we also have pushed the envelope here a little beyond what has been done in the past.

quote by Claude Nicollier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

The Landscape

Painter, painter paint a scene-
A dainty cottage on a mound,
In a forest beautiful.

Paint it white and ashen grey,
With a meadow surrounding,
Filled with grass, all green and mowed.

Paint arcading cedars few,
With a narrow winding road,
And hedges on either side.

Paint a teenager with bike,
Ready for a hiking trip,
In the forest adjacent.

Make the day dawn early when
Air is fresh and birds fly past,
In the search of early worms!

When the light shall fade by eve,
Let the eyes that pry within,
Sense the ghosts of beasts and men!

And an eerie silence fall,
Broken by weird shrieking sounds,
Shadow-play of setting sun!

Turning forest pitch-black till,
Bats and owls come out to look
For their prey, in dark profound!