Best 84 quotes in «artwork quotes» category

The business of living - that's your artwork, and the process of that is finding out who you are, what it all means.

Some people leave artwork, some people do rude things, other people then turn those rude things into nice things.

Some visual artworks are made to be talked about more than to be seen, others are made to be seen more than to be talked about. I think I belong in the latter category.

The digital artwork is characterized not by the technology which delivers it, but by the "passage" itself.

You never really get to touch anything that you're doing unless you print it out. I don't really enjoy making artwork on a computer because it doesn't seem like I've done anything.

They paint me as a villain, I just autograph the artwork.

Whenever you finish an artwork and the viewer comes and views it, at that moment you've given up control.

When I started out, I wrote the songs, recorded the songs, mastered, mixed, did the artwork, made the packaging and did the distribution, all myself. Now I understand what everyone's jobs are, who is doing them right, and who isn't.

You make an open-ended proposition and the audience completes it somehow. That’s what you hope an artwork to be-a constantly living thing.

The viewer brings something individual to the experience of any artwork.

Compassion is the artwork of tuning the individual plans with the grand plan of the existence.

Artwork can be consumed for ages. The people and the state can be proud of it. That is why it is incorrect to stimulate something that has no real value.

A wedding is a series of special moments, strung together like beads on a chain. Sure, by themselves, they are lovely, but put them all together and you get art.

All the aesthetic anarchy of our day is caused by more international artillery than by international paintings.

Art is like hard digging. Without daily searching, nothing can be found.

As in zoology, monsters exist in art. It is the pervert of the formation of words, lines, colors, and sounds.

By means of art, man values the value of his worldview and the event. With it, the man moves to the ground and phosphoresces at the darkness of reality, illuminating his dark path with its splendor, like a magical dark-eyed eye, so it moves between the stars and so lives.

Can you really see different things in a painting from day to day?" This seemed to genuinely interest the duke. She wasn't certain which part of it fascinated him most, the fact that a painting could change or that she thought it could. "Well, it isn't like a crystal ball. Whereby you see shifting images and the like. But haven't you ever looked at a painting for a length of time, or on more than one occasion, and experienced it differently each time?" Where to begin explaining art to someone who seemed to know nothing about it? Now, if she were dancing with Harry... "Of course. As a young man touring the Continent, I once looked at 'length' at a painting called 'Venus and Mars' by an Italian painter called Veronese. Do you know it? Venus is nude as the day she was born, and Mars is entirely clothed and down on his knees in front of her, and it looks as though Mars is about to give her a pleasuring. And there are cherubs hanging about. I looked at it for quite some time." A... pleasuring. 'God above.' He had her attention now. She was speechless. Everything was astonishing about what he'd just said. She stared up at him, her mind exploding with vivid images, her cheeks going increasingly hotter. She knew the painting. She knew 'precisely' where Mars was kneeling in front of Venus. The duke had said it purposely. Suddenly she was acutely aware of her five senses, as though they were blinking on, one by one, like fireflies in the dark. Most particularly vivid was touch. She was potently aware of his hands: the one resting with firm assurance against her waist, warm there now through the fine silk of her gown, the other enfolding hers. She was acutely aware of his size, and everything that was masculine to her feminine. Goodness. He could certainly look at her for a long time without blinking.

George thrust into Alma's hand a lithograph of a spotted 'Catasetum.' The orchid had been rendered so magnificently that it seemed to grow off the page. Its lips were spotted red against yellow, and appeared moist, like living flesh. Its leaves were lush and thick, and its bulbous roots looked as though one could shake actual soil off them. Before Alma could thoroughly take in the beauty, George handed her another stunning print- a 'Peristeria barkeri,' with its tumbling golden blossoms so fresh they nearly trembled. Whoever had tinted this lithograph had been a master of texture as well as color; the petals resembled unshorn velvet, and touches of albumen on their tips gave each blossom a hint of dew. Then George handed her another print, and Alma could not help but gasp. Whatever this orchid was, Alma had never seen it before. Its tiny pink lobes looked like something a fairy would don for a fancy dress ball.

Each artwork requires its own design

He showed her things she'd never known about things she'd always thought she understood. And she adored it... even as it terrified her. Even as it made her question everything she thought true. She resisted the thought, her gaze rising to one large wall of the club, where the Angel's namesake fell in beautiful glass panels from Heaven to Hell, from good to evil, from sainthood to sin. It was the most beautiful window Pippa had ever seen, the work of true artisans, all reds and golds and violets, at once hideous and holy. It was the angel himself who fascinated her, the enormous, beautiful man crashing to Earth, without the gifts he'd had for so long. In the hands of a poorer artist, the detail of him would have been less intricate, the hands and feet and face would have been shaped with glass of a single color, but this artist had cared deeply for his subject, and the swirls of darks and lights in the panels were finely crafted to depict movement, shape, and even emotion. She could not help but stare at the face of the fall- inverted as he fell to the floor of the hell- the arch of his brow, the complex shade of his jaw, the curve of his lip. She paused there, thinking on another pair of lips, another fall. Another angel. Cross. Emotion flared, one she did not immediately recognize. She let out a long breath. She wanted him- in a way she knew she should not. In a way she knew she should want another. A man destined to be her husband. To be the father of her children. And yet, she wanted Cross. This angel.

In 1972, Bayber's work underwent another metamorphosis, yet refused to be defined by or adhere to any specific style. Elements of abstract expressionism, modernism, surrealism, and neo-expressionism combine with figurative art to create works which remain wholly original and highly complex, both delighting and terrifying at a subconscious level. There is nothing fragile here, nothing dreamlike. No protections are offered, not for the artist himself and not for those viewing his work. All is called forth in a raw state, human values finessed on the canvas, softened and sharpened, separated and made aggregate. While there are certain motifs in these works- often a suggestion of water, the figure of a bird- and various elements are repeated, aside from an introverted complexity, the context in which they appear is never the same from one piece to the next. What ties these works together is the suggestion of loss, of disappearance, and of longing ( see figs. 87-95)" The figure of a bird. He had forgotten his own writing. Finch took the book back to his desk and pulled a magnifying glass from the top drawer to study the color plates. Thomas had completed six paintings in 1972, four of them after July. In each of those four, Finch managed to find what he had seen long ago, the figure of a bird. Was it Alice, flown away from him?

I became an artist because I wanted to be an active participant in the conversation about art.

If life can be a work of art, then what are the works of art?

If the choice is between investment in old masters or an artwork of Raphael Perez, I'd go for the Raphael Perez every time ..

It is important that the image of her beauty sums up in man the richness of life, love, respect for the colors of the world created by God, thought of depth and faith. It does not matter who the painter is.

In time, all great masterpieces turn into shameless creatures who laugh at their creators.

I slipped outside...and into the realm of the ravens.

I think sometimes in artwork or writing or music, you discover something that just needs to be created. It’s not even something that you want to create... You’re just pulled into it like an instrument. Like you’re part of a bigger plan.

In this kind of personal artwork, jettison any idea that you can help yourself or others by interpreting, praising, or criticizing. These kinds of creative pieces and experiences are only for being with. The only helpful response is to nourish the imagination and your piece by associating other images to it and noticing what feelings it evokes in you.

Perhaps the most important sexual tool is consciousness. If we think we are "not enough" or "too much," we surely are. Similarly, when you give a gift, create artwork, or perform any task with the thought that it's "not enough" or "too much," it surely will be.

Nothing is more beautiful than an organized width, and nothing is worse than an unorganized lapidary.

Los mejores errores de mi vida los plasme en mis obras de arte.

My response to stress is just as complex as my artwork.

Never look back. The past is done. The future is a blank canvas. Work on creating a masterpiece. Only you have the power to make your painting beautiful.

One false step, and you’ll fall all the way to Tartarus—and believe me, unlike the Doors of Death, this would be a one-way trip, a very hard fall! I will not have you dying before you tell me your plan for my artwork.

Taming the matter is the basic thing for creating visual art.

Remember that although technique is important, there are other issues in art making that should take precedence. When the strongest thing in an artwork is technique, the subject is vanity. Art must have a higher subject. Something else must rise to the top. A work of art is born in the desire for something—to explore something, be it formal (understanding light, color, or objects in space), political, or emotional. The creative act takes in everything about you—the images and creative means of who you are and where you come from, added to the world you see and hope for. The technique you learn should always be in the service of this.

The advantage of having an artistic tradition is that the younger artist could see an organic link between the real life of one's country and its art work which is a sublimation of that life.

The best art is not always the most popular art, and the most popular art is never truly the best art. The best art is that which is streamed through God. And the worst art is that which is void of God. The master artist of the universe is the Creator of All Things, and his reflection is in all of us. Only the artist who is aware that he is a reflection of that greatness, and that creativity is supreme love, is a true divine artist. Even if he is not the most popular artist, he will be very popular among the stars of His universe. That is the master artist, one who uses his talents to serve as a vehicle of God. In his work, you hear God's voice and see with His eyes.

The artist should love his art, not his artwork.

The art deprived of closeness to the world is, in fact, pure, flat, unmanageable, decorative. Totally extraneous because she herself destroyed outer. Empty and indifferent, deprived of destiny, it solves only technical issues.

There seemed to be as much written about the art, and what the dialogue meant, as the paintings themselves. Clement Greenburg had been the first of many. It drove her crazy, the convoluted doubletalk of artist and medium and historian. Though she loved the process of creation and the images themselves, she found it difficult to put her thoughts into words.

The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars.

The men in black walked back across the field, back to their dry homes, like crows returning to the nest. I trailed behind them, a confused and drenched brown sparrow behind the flock.

The reason people are so moved by art and why artists tend to take it all so seriously is that if they are real and true they come to the painting with everything they know and feel and live, and all the things they don't know, and some of the things they hope, and they are honest about them all and put them on the canvas. What can be more serious?

THE VERITY THAT TWO PEOPLE OUT OF THE MILLIONS AROUND THEM CAN MEET AND ADHERE AND BECOME BOSOM FRIENDS, SEEMS LIKE ENCHANTMENT TO ME. BUT MAINTAINING A FRIENDSHIP REQUIRES (HARD-WORK). I DON'T MEAN THAT AS A BAD THING. GOOD ARTWORK REQUIRES EFFORT AS WELL.

Work. Good, honest work, whether it’s working with your hands to create an artwork, or manual labour, brings forth a sense of divinity at play. The only prerequisite is that whatever the work is, it is done sincerely and in congruence with the soul’s true origin and intent, then, without any effort, one experiences a flow, wherein one feels a part of the plan of the entire universe.

They paint what they see and we paint what we are watching.

We are told that in translation there is no such thing as equivalence. Many times the translator reaches a fork in the translating road where they must make a choice in the interpretation of a word. And each time they make one of these choices, they are taken further from the truth. But what we aren’t told is that this isn’t a shortcoming of translation; it’s a shortcoming of language itself. As soon as we try to put reality into words, we limit it. Words are not reality, they are the cause of reality, and thus reality is always more. Writers aren't alchemists who transmute words into the aurous essence of the human experience. No, they are glassmakers. They create a work of art that enables us to see inside to help us understand. And if they are really good, we can see our own reflections staring back at us.