Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things

Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things

Every time I paint a portrait I lose a friend.

Every time I paint a portrait I lose a friend.

If it is the love of that which your work represents--if, being a
landscape painter, it is love of read more

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.

He paints a dolphin in the woods, a boar in the waves.
[Lat., Delphinum sylvis appingit, fluctibus aprum.]

He paints a dolphin in the woods, a boar in the waves.
[Lat., Delphinum sylvis appingit, fluctibus aprum.]

I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure read more

I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure of myself, and the paintings appear as in a dream

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.

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.

From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly read more

From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with light his blended colors glow.
. . . .
The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.

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.