Let's look at people as artists and try to support them; just because Picasso painted a couple of bad paintings, that's no reason to say he's a lousy painter.
quote by Steve Guttenberg
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
And I started with this: I have not painted at all my childhood. In fact, I never painted. But I helped my father who was a house painter and decorative painter. He made stage sets, he made glass paintings, he made everything.
quote by Josef Albers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Picasso painted in Paris, was he a Spanish or a French painter? It does not matter, he was Picasso, whatever the influences surrounding him. He simply chose Paris because it was the ideal place for him to sell his creation.
quote by Jean-Jacques Annaud
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I have no ideas about what the paintings imply about the world. I don't think that's a painter's business. He just paints paintings without a conscious reason.
quote by Jasper Johns
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picasso's always been such a huge influence that I thought when I started the cartoon paintings that I was getting away from Picasso, and even my cartoons of Picasso were done almost to rid myself of his influence.
quote by Roy Lichtenstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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My mother said to me, 'If you are a soldier, you will become a general. If you are a monk, you will become the Pope.' Instead, I was a painter, and became Picasso.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I was a child, my mother said to me, "If you become a soldier, you'll be a general. If you become a monk you'll end up as the pope." Instead I became a painter and wound up as Picasso.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is a face, really? Its own photo? Its make-up? Or is it a face as painted by such or such painter? That which is in front? Inside? Behind? And the rest? Doesn't everyone look at himself in his own particular way? Deformations simply do not exist.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Picasso
Words and music by neil diamond
The last picasso, the last picasso was just acquired by some old museum, and don quixote, well don quixote the old mans rhyme has lost its reason; which only reminds me have I remembered to say that without you this life of plenty, would seem so empty, the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. the last picasso, the last picasso may gather dust amid the ruins, and don quixote, well don quixote may no longer make his wishful tunes; but I still have you and I will have you when evrything else is gone and done with. well be like one with the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--we we can sigh me oh me oh me oh we can sign. oh, me and you.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bad artists copy. Good artists steal.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picasso Is...
Picasso is...
Picasso transcends mortality.
Picasso is fury artistic dynamics in motion.
Picasso always moving in styles
to new levels of artistic perception
through seen seam fractures
of shift broken molten imagery.
Picasso is walking through walls.
Picasso is rebirth in conception.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What might be taken for a precocious genius is the genius of childhood. When the child grows up, it disappears without a trace. It may happen that this boy will become a real painter some day, or even a great painter. But then he will have to begin everything again, from zero.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plain Truth
Who are you and who am i
Except a couple of people
Wasting lots of time
Worrying about the future
Forever asking why
Some people go on living
While others die before their time
Yet theres never been a reason
Whatever is is right
If only just because
Its much too big a fight
Like the painter who is way ahead
Or worse still far behind
You only punch yourself out
When you start swinging blind
These are the things too often gone unsaid
These are the things that keep
You better off than dead
These are the things that keep running through your head
Woo oooo
These are the things too often gone unsaid
Who are you and who am i
Except a couple of people
With nothing else to do
But follow vain obsessions
Making gestures towards the truth
While trying to ignore it
When its convenient to
The symbols we believe in
Sometimes turn inside out
Reshaping each dimension
Were so sure about
Dreams get so frustrated
Fantasies turn pranks
A simple ounce of common sense
Is money in the bank.
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song For Bob Dylan
Oh, hear this robert zimmerman
I wrote a song for you
About a strange young man called dylan
With a voice like sand and glue
Some words of truthful vengeance
They could pin us to the floor
Brought a few more people on
And put the fear in a whole lot more
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes
Here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of a superbrain
Shell scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs
From your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
You gave your heart to every bedsit room
At least a picture on the wall
And you sat behind a million pair of eyes
And told them how they saw
Then we lost your train of thought
The paintings are all your own
While troubles are rising
Wed rather be scared
Together than alone
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes
Here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of a superbrain
Shell scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs
From your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Aoo
Now hear this robert zimmerman
Though I dont suppose well meet
Ask your good friend dylan
If hed gaze a while down the old street
Tell him weve lost his poems
So theyre writing on the walls
Give us back our unity
Give us back our family
Youre every nations refugee
Dont leave us with their sanity
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes
Here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of a superbrain
Shell scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs
From your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Come on
A couple of songs
From your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Oh, here she comes, (oh) here she comes
Oh, here she comes (oh)
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It feels like my job is to support people. I support great artists. When I worked with a symphony, I sat in the third chair, not the first chair.
quote by Nile Rodgers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sculpture is the best comment that a painter can make on painting.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Not Paint Those Paintings
I used to see paintings in my mind's eyes
I used to dream scenes amazing paintings
I used to dream paintings in sleep sight
paintings in details I had never seen before
paintings which stopped heart in sight shock
I knew canvases were awkward hard to carry
to travel with poems is only paper and pen
paint your paintings inspiring I write poems
I will not soul carry paint those paintings
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0021 Under the bridge of time
Oui, c'est beaux, le jardin... at this time of year;
mais... for myself,
a little too overgrown – but Monsieur
prefers it that way… you see him down there
by the lily pond, the nymphées?
He’s nearly blind now, yet he’s out all day
and nearly every day. He draws life from the garden,
je crois; and though there are some who laugh
and say, his paintings are now
mere daubs, when I see them
and then go out into the garden,
there’s a truth there, beyond what we see…
what passes, what floats serene and unaffected...
what floats on time itself...
You may find this fanciful, but I’ve watched Monsieur
over the years: first he had the garden made,
when he could afford it, and the bridge and then the pool
that slows the river… then he painted the lilies which we planted,
floating on the water, all the colours
of sunshine as you see it through a prism…then he painted
the sunlight on the water… then
he seemed to paint the flow of the water
as it passed… and then he seemed to be painting
time itself, passing under the bridge
where we’re standing here, as if
outside time… and now,
qu’est-ce qu’on dit? I think
he’s painting the philosophy of time –
Monsieur Bergson le philosophe
agrees with me – in paint; perhaps
one might say, painting
the future of painting…
yet, the flow of time and death came first, they say:
Monsieur began to paint his water-lilies
after he had seen the photos of the solemn river
of corpses in the trenches
in that terrible war; even, it's said,
the same colours of the unburied dead who putrify
are the same colours that he sees
in the water-lilies...c'est étrange, n'est-ce-pas?
a sort of redemption in the painter's palette...
this, I feel, gives these pretty paintings
the vision that drives Monsieur
to find beauty in its opposite...
but it’s cooling now; Monsieur
likes to enjoy that glowing light of early evening,
the precious departing of the light…
the light of life itself...
I’ll fetch his rug…these artists seem to
lose themselves in what they see…
they don’t seem to notice passing time,
it’s as if they think they live where time is space;
or perhaps, time’s so precious for Monsieur
that he paints it running out…
but I mustn’t keep you, M’sieur Proust –
it was so kind of you to find the time
to visit, and you too, M’sieur Debussy –
it has been quite a day to remember, n’est-ce pas? …
and now for Monsieur’s rug…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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