If it is the love of that which your work represents--if, being a
landscape painter, it is love of hills and trees that moves
you--if, being a figure painter, it is love of human beauty, and
human soul that moves you--if, being a flower or animal painter,
it is love, and wonder, and delight in petal and in limb that
move you, then the Spirit is upon you, and the earth is yours,
and the fullness thereof.
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Paint me as I am. If you leave out the scars and wrinkles, I
will not pay you a read more
Paint me as I am. If you leave out the scars and wrinkles, I
will not pay you a shilling.
Well, something must be done for May,
The time is drawing nigh--
To figure in the Catalogue,
read more
Well, something must be done for May,
The time is drawing nigh--
To figure in the Catalogue,
And woo the public eye.
Something I must invent and paint;
But oh my wit is not
Like one of those kind substantives
That answer Who and What?
Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?
Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?
I've been doing a lot of abstract painting lately, extremely abstract. No brush, no paint, no canvas, I just think read more
I've been doing a lot of abstract painting lately, extremely abstract. No brush, no paint, no canvas, I just think about it.
Painting is an infinitely minute part of my personality.
Painting is an infinitely minute part of my personality.
"Paint me as I am," said Cromwell,
"Rough with age and gashed with wars;
Show my visage read more
"Paint me as I am," said Cromwell,
"Rough with age and gashed with wars;
Show my visage as you find it,
Less than truth my soul abhors."
Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen
Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen
One picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the
applause of mankind, from generation to generation until read more
One picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the
applause of mankind, from generation to generation until the
colors fade and blacken out of sight or the canvas rot entirely
away.
Pictures must not be too picturesque.
Pictures must not be too picturesque.
