Best 8185 quotes in «artist quotes» category

Not only the artist watches his art with admiration but his art also watches his artist with admiration!

Not without deep pain do we admit to ourselves that the artists of all ages have in their highest flights carried to heavenly transfiguration precisely those conceptions that we now recognize as false: they are the glorifiers of the religious and philosophical errors of humanity, and they could not have done this without their belief in the absolute truth of these errors. Now if the belief in such truth generally diminishes, if the rainbow colors at the outermost ends of human knowing and imagining fade: then the species of art that, like the Divina commedia, Raphael's pictures, Michelangelo's frescoes, the Gothic cathedrals, presupposes not only a cosmic, but also a metaphysical significance for art objects can never blossom again. A touching tale will come of this, that there was once such an art, such belief by artists.

Now let's talk about dreams. Yes. Dreams. I believe that dreams are one of the best thing in the world. It's so powerful. Because of people dreaming; things are being done and things are being made. Things happen. Dreams are being manifested to beautiful things. Dreams can make people happy, but sad as well (if they don't happen). Well let me tell you, I believe dreams come true because one person decided it so.

Now relax, think positively and begin --- the smile of success awaits you.

Nude paintings and sculptures are called "art" only in the museums.. Outside of the museums, It is "Absurdity" and "Vulgarity". To respect your own creative talent and the prosperity of your "art", let only the Gurus critique, suggest and guide you; don't let your work be affected by others' choices and understandings.

Objectionable, tedious, irritating labour, - this is the condition of genius, which no doubt explains the reason why men so rarely achieve anything. Genius must submit to cultivate an ass within itself - the condition being so humiliating that man will seldom take up the job.

Of course a miracle may happen, and you may be a great painter, but you must confess the chances are a million to one against it. It'll be an awful sell if at the end you have to acknowledge you've made a hash of it." "I've got to paint," he repeated. "Supposing you're never anything more than third-rate, do you think it will have been worth while to give up everything? After all, in any other walk in life it doesn't matter if you're not very good; you can get along quite comfortably if you're just adequate; but it's different with an artist." "You blasted fool," he said. "I don't see why, unless it's folly to say the obvious." "I tell you I've got to paint. I can't help myself. When a man falls into the water it doesn't matter how he swims, well or badly: he's got to get out or else he'll drown.

Ok! So that's the spice. Typical gossips for or against a qualified newcomer!

One can steal everything from an artist except their talent.

One of his hands move away from my face to flatten against my back, pulling me closer to him as he deepens the kiss. He parts my lips under his as my mind seems to sign quietly in content. I kiss him back as fiercely as he kisses me, unable to control the infatuation that rushes through me - feeling almost like fireworks. Not so careful anymore. Little shivers of urgency shoot through me. I push off the window, pressing closer to him. The rush of sensation that is coursing through me feels like I've drunk a gallon of coffee. It feels like an electric buzz is flooding between us.

One of the great moments in Artist's life is to watch her own oeuvre through a Gallery's door, to see all the Art-works hanging out together on a publicly accessible wall, to slow down and think about the creative process that continues to mystify us all.

One of the most beautiful things to do is to paint darkness, which nevertheless has light in it.

One should not become an artist because he can, but because he must. It is only for those who would be miserable without it.

Only after a writer lets literature shape her can she perhaps shape literature. In working-class France, when an apprentice got hurt, or when he got tired, the experienced workers said, "It is the trade entering his body." The art must enter the body, too.

Only Creative People understand the importance of being alone.

ONLY' having the Gift, people appreciate this madness as Art. Everybody wants to have Art in their lives, but no body wants to have what the Art came out from in their lives...

Only great artists have the wisdom to let go of good ideas.

Only by examining our personal biases can we grow as artists; only by cultivating empathy can we grow as people.

Only the artistic will to transform the future into a space of unlimited art-elevating chances enables us to understand the core of the procreation rule: 'a creator shall you create [...] a self-propelling wheel, a first movement'. This rule contains no less than Nietzsche's theology after the death of God: there will continue to be a God and gods, but only humanity-immanent ones, and only to the extent that there are creators who follow on from what has been achieved in order to go higher, faster and further.

Our deepest beliefs about the universe filter their way up through the soil into the tiny aesthetic decisions that the artist makes. How we make our records. Which color feels right. Rhyme schemes and word choices. These kinds of decisions are rarely made out of purely analytical comparison. They come from the guts. From faith.

Opposites though they are, both solitude and solidarity are essential if the artist is to produce works that are not only significant to his or her age, but that will also speak to future generations.

Our best canvas is all around us, in everything we touch and do.

Our every action has consequences. Thoughts have consequences. Since actions start from thoughts I guess I can say technically that thoughts in general have consequences. In our thoughts we make dreams. So if I think I can do it, then my actions will be "I CAN" and I am able to do it. So the result or the consequence will be "I did it!".

Our body is a sacred temple A place to connect with people. As we aren't staying any younger We might as well keep it stronger.

Pearls. Take, like an oyster, your irritations, your pain. Use these to create your masterpiece.

Paper flowers make just about any heart smile…and that- is the best gift of all!

People are always relying on another, i always feel more comfortable alone. Art knows my pain, its not just a desire to paint, a hobby to distract me from living my truth, it is my truth.

People say I have a wild imagination. I actually don't. You see, what I do consists in analyzing the patterns of a peculiar form of stupidity that emerges from the head of most I interact with, especially when dealing with groups; the same patterns that make their life boring and dramatic, full of problems and stress. And then, I merge and recombine that into a beautiful multicolored ball that I throw back at them in the form of a joke or a lie that makes them laugh. But I didn't really create it; I merely gave a positive use to their own nonsense. And they love it. And yet, they always think I am the crazy one, the one with the wild imagination. But I am just an artist. I can only be creative by using the colors and forms given to me through observation. If I am good at everything I do with art, as with jokes, is because I am a good artist.

People listening to songs are like people reading novels: for a few minutes, for a few hours, someone else gets to come in and hijack that part of your brain that's always thinking. A good book or song kidnaps your interior voice and does all the driving. With the artist in charge you're free for a little while to leave your body and be someone else.

People who feel pain, that’s common. Someone who uses pain to create, this is an Artist.

Persecution inspires men who otherwise would have remained dormant. As pain whips the painter, his brush whips the canvas.

Perfectly written isn't human, exact replicas aren't flawless and thinking you have to achieve them all is futile. Seek to write and create what deeply moves you and only then will the words and work you create feel perfectly flawless.

Philosophers wonder when they do not know, artists when they do.

Photography saved my life by opening my eyes to the beauty that surrounds me each and everyday. Life look much richer from behind the lens.

Protect the ears of your heart, rather than being drawn in each day like the fading tides that dance daily with the moon.

Producers problems is in need of vocalist and Vocalist problems is in need of a Studio.

Pseudo-artists think that being an artist means opposing whatever seems to be an establishment. That is not creative at all. True creativity is the ability to gain perspective wherever you may have missed it before.

Pop is about speaking everybody's language. The imagery and iconography we instantly recognize. When you can rely on things that the public already knows, you're dealing with Pop.

Put on the show you want to see.

Rome seems a comfort to those with the ambitious soul of an Artist or a Conqueror.

Realism without naturalism... is a leading motif in Modern Art. There is a move away from the struggle to perfect the reflection of Nature in Art's mirror, which I attribute to the all-pervading effects of photography...You must serve the tradition without being its slave. Remember you are an artist, not a draughtsman.

Quiet birds rob the universe of beautiful symphonies.

Remember, creativity is like a compass, each one has its own, and each one points to a different North.

Self-destruction is an art; cursed are the exponents.

Selamat menyimak wawancara dalam buku ini yang bertaburan gagasan-gagasan menyentak.

She felt his fingers caress her scalp, the sensations swift, heated shocks rocking through her body. His breath was punctuated against her cheek and nose. The tension mounted in him until Shiloh felt as if he would snap and break, unleashing that throbbing sexual power she sensed so intensely around him.

She had picked the spot the day before and carried out a stool low enough to sit on and still have her paintbox and her water cup within reach. Anna didn't use an easel. Easels seemed to her an altogether too assertive aid, too obvious. She liked to work as unobtrusively as possible, the paper spread on a board in her lap, close to her hand.

She took down the framed manuscript from the kitchen wall. It was Kendra's prized possession, and part of her felt guilty for what she planned, but it had to be done. She carefully removed the parchment from its frame, then searched through the piles of translations and notes on the kitchen table. Finally she found the Secret Scroll on the chair where Kendra had been the night before. She carried both manuscripts upstairs and set them on her desk. Next she gathered paints and brushes and sat down. She studied the artwork on the Secret Scroll, then slowly began copying its rich patterns of gold, red, and blue onto Kendra's old manuscript. It was late afternoon when she finished. She studied her work. She had managed to copy the exotic birds and animals hidden in the foliage on the borders, and even the detailed picture of the goddess locking the jaws of hell. Her work was rough, but at a distance it would fool Toby or any of the Regulators, especially since they were afraid to touch it. Satisfied, she went to her closet. She searched through her clothes until she found the strapless top with the slit in the front. She slipped it over her head, then grabbed a silky black skirt and stepped into it. She carried her stiletto boots to the bed and tugged them on. At last she drew black liquid eyeliner over her top lid, added green glitter shadow, rolled thick mascara on her lashes, and brushed her hair. She added gloss to her lips and rubbed sparkle lotion over her arms and chest. Then she remembered the dragon stencils. Soon, she had a sinuous dragon adorning her thigh between the bottom of her skirt and the top of her boots. She liked the look. She turned in front of the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door. "Dynamite," she whispered. Her reflection thrilled her. She looked vamped-out and mystical. At once, she sensed the fierce power of the dragon rising in her. She felt like an invincible goddess-warrior.

She pours sugar on her life and drinks the artist’s marrow in the bone of her glass and she lives.

She simply converted an average face into beautiful face and a beautiful face into an angelic face.