Regarding the creative: never assume you’re the master, only the student. Your audience will determine if you’re masterful.

The biggest spur to my interest in art came when I played van Gogh in the biographical film Lust For Life. The role affected me deeply. I was haunted by this talented genius who took...

The painter will produce pictures of little merit if he takes the works of others as his standard.

I’m painting color squares. Onesquare – one color. That’s what I paint.

Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.

Painting was called silent poetry and poetry speaking painting.

Turning one’s novel into a movie script is rather like making a series of sketches for a painting that has long ago been finished and framed.

For all the pain you suffered, my mama. For all the torment of your past and future years, my mama. For all the anguish this picture of pain will cause you. For the unspeakable mystery...

Painting a picture is writing a poem with paint.

What I can’t tell with a photo I will tell with a painting, and what I can’t tell with a painting I will tell with a video or text sometimes, et cetera.

ARTThe world is full of confusion and contradiction. We cannot expect to do anything that is absolutely right. We can only measure rightness by the truth within ourselves. And our own truth will never be...

If you have walked into a museum recently – whether you did so to attend an art exhibition or to escape from the police – you may have noticed a type of painting known as...

[Matisse’s aim in leaving the face blank was] to encourage you to look all over the surface of the painting, … He realized we are biologically constructed to focus on faces more than anything. So...

Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?

And I think a painting has such a limited life anyway.

After I see a painting, I go into a room, I close my eyes and I slowly escape into the beauty of the painting. I reflect on the painting, the nuances of the artwork, it’s...

The craft of painting has virtually disappeared. There is hardly anyone left who really possesses it. For evidence one has only to look at the painters of this century.

I see it, Jack. Your muse is back. The thing that gave you passion, tormented you, and haunted you is back. You’re reeling in ecstasy and dread. It’s something you want, but can’t ever have....

I paint the way some people write their autobiography. The paintings, finished or not, are the pages of my journal, and as such they are valid. The future will choose the pages it prefers. It’s...

Every song is like a painting.

Is this when you tell me I’m your soul mate, O’Neill?

The canvas is the door to another dimension. The paintbrush is the key.

He disregarded everything, he gave everything to art. He tirelessly visited galleries, spent whole hours standing before the works of great masters, grasped and pursued a wondrous brush. He never finished anything without testing himself...

Painting pictures didn’t make me a lot of money. I have to eat.

There is something particularly fascinating about seeing places you know in a piece of art – be that in a film, or a photograph, or a painting.

Painting is a great outlet for those inner emotions you cannot get out any other way.

Writing, music, sculpting, painting, and prayer! These are the three things that are most closely related! Writers, musicians, sculptors, painters, and the faithful are the ones who make things out of nothing. Everybody else, they...

I have ADD or something. Even when I am doing something, it’s me on the computer, I’m painting and I’m writing music. I have to rotate what I’m doing every 15 minutes.

Good art is like a sexy pair of lips—it has the potential to say so much, but prefers to have you do all the talking about it. Also, good art is fun to kiss and...

Chemistry has the same quickening and suggestive influence upon the algebraist as a visit to the Royal Academy, or the old masters may be supposed to have on a Browning or a Tennyson. Indeed it...

Hazel blue anemone in a little SeaSide cave…drawing currents from the sea turquoise blue on sparkling waves. In ocean dreams, the poet waits by his grotto, passing days. Rhyming verse, his mind creates where his...

We agreed that including the financial services now would be like painting a moving train.

He told her the flowers in her painting contained exactly the purple substance of the flowers on the desk in front of her […] Let us open the window and see if your painting can...

I dream my painting and I paint my dream.

Without atmosphere a painting is nothing.

I think that the fact that it’s black and that it has like this color in it and there’s painting around it. It just doesn’t seem real, and then the fact that it’s functional too.

As an artist I have always tried to be faithful to my vision of life, and I have frequently been in conflict with those who wanted me to paint not what I saw but what...

Painting and writing are solitary arts.

Who are you, Martin Eden? he demanded of himself in the looking- glass, that night when he got back to his room. He gazed at himself long and curiously. Who are you? What are you?...

This painting was created by someone who spent endless hours observing their subject and applying precise strokes of paint in patterns to replicate what their mind said was the essence of the person who stood...

After this series, he really stopped painting.

I who have been involved with all styles of painting can assure you that the only things that fluctuate are the waves of fashion which carry the snobs and speculators; the number of true connoisseurs...

Pollock also… wanted one to be wrapped in the painting.

With cold eyes and indifferent mind the spectators regard the work. Connoissers admire the “skill” (as one admires a tightrope walker), enjoy the “quality of painting” (as one enjoys a pasty). But hungry souls go...

I don’t like getting out when I could be painting. And when I’m painting, I don’t want anybody else around.

If you could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint.

A picture was a motionless record of motion. An arrested representation of life. A picture was the kiss of death pretending to possess immutability.

Now you are walking in Paris all alone in the crowdAs herds of bellowing buses drive byLove’s anguish tightens your throatAs if you were never to be loved againIf you lived in the old days...

I’d stumbled upon the inner sanctuary of a woman who loved the world. Loved the faces of people she saw. Loved the way a hand looked when it was relaxed. Loved the way a woman...

Negative people will always be there to stain your pure image with their dirty tongues and brushes, but you’ll always remain as white as snow, no matter how high the quality of paint they use.