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Painter Quotes

Browse 1521 quotes about Painter.

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Painter Quotes

“Now is not the time for bigots and racists. No time for sexists and homophobes. Now, more than ever, is the time for ARTISTS. It’s time for us to rise above and to create. To show humanity. To spread hope. We must prevent society from destroying itself, from losing its way. Now is the time for love.”

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Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“You too know that all my eyes see, all I touch with myself, from any distance, is Diego. The caress of fabrics, the color of colors, the wires, the nerves, the pencils, the leaves, the dust, the cells, the war and the sun, everything experienced in the minutes of the non-clocks and the non-calendars and the empty non-glances, is him.”

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Book:The Diary of Frida Kahlo: An Intimate Self-Portrait
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“Look at this one.” I picked up a small painting of a man with dark hair and a short, dark beard. He wore a loose shirt, cobalt blue, unbuttoned at the top, showing a prominent, knobby collarbone. He looked…complicated and hungry. She’d captured him focused intensely on a book, his face pressed against a wall like he was resting. Or waiting.”

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Book:Perfect Glass
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“A good bus rider likes to take the bus, looking out the window, talking to others on the way. The trip on the bus is fun; it is not just about getting there. A good painter tries to think about what she is feeling inside her imagination, her thoughts. It is not just about painting what something looks like. A good science student likes thinking about ideas, tries to find out how things work. It is not just about learning one tiny piece of the universe.”

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Book:Voyage to the Sun: A Children's Version of the Tao te Ching
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“A Churchyard In Summertime by Stewart Stafford O, to stand in a quiet country churchyard, The graveyard bending in summer zephyrs, Chlorophyll light beneath swaying poplars, Rook song in twilight's nocturne. Oblivious hues spread upon canvas, Beside the somnambulant swanning river, Miasmas of midges at the water's edge, In the crosshairs of a painter's thumb. Then the sun rolls away over the horizon, A veil draws across the long day's play, A churn supper collection of basket and easel, Recollections in the slumbering night. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”

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Author:Stewart Stafford
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“پدرم. آخرین بار. هیکل تنومند، موهای رو به عقب، چشم های کم و بیش بسته. طرحی از شیوه ی سکوتش، خمیدگی پشتش، پاهای بازش، دست هایش و عینکش کشیدم. به پولور قهوه ای اش سایه زدم، به جوراب هایش که خال های آبی داشت چین دادم. کناره های صندلی دسته دارش، بالشچه ی پشمی اش، پرده ی پشت سرش و گل های مصنوعی پارچه ای را در گلدان بدون آب کشیدم.با مداد تندتند می کشیدم. هر چه را که هنوز به چشم می خورد، ضبط می کردم. چهره ی مردی ضعیف، تنها و سرگشته را سرسری ترسیم می کردم. نگاه به زیر افکنده اش را جستجو می کردم. دیگر هیچ چیز در وجودم خانه نداشت. نه خشمی. نه اندوهی. تنم از مشت هایش جان سالم به در برده بود . سرم صدمه ندیده بود.((دارالتادیب)) دیگر چیزی نبود جز یک قفسه ی چوبی.”

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Book:Profession du père
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“She only modelled for him once,' Max said stubbornly, leaning the canvases back against the wall and replacing the sheet. 'Once, twice or umpteen times, it's proof she knew Spataro... how shall we put it?... on terms a man who loved her might resent.' 'There are lots of artists in Montparnasse, Appelby, and lots of artists' models.' 'I wouldn't like it. And I bet Sir Henry didn't like it either.' 'There was nothing between Corinne and Spataro.' 'That's the problem, isn't it?' Appelby pointed with the stem of his pipe at the shrouded paintings. 'There may have been *literally* nothing between them.”

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Book:The Ways of the World
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“We made love again. This time it was me who asked. Lying there again, on the bed, this time with heat, almost an oven heat, coming through the screen, and sweat instead of tears, I wondered how simple we really are. That we can do the same things again and again and again and find them interesting, even fascinating and seek the repetition with a hunger as avid. How fishing was like that, and painting.”

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Book:The Painter
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“It was a tribute to Raphael that lesser artists wanted to copy his work, but this… this was a travesty. The fresco consisted of Galatea’s apotheosis, wherein she is surrounded by mythical creatures. A beautiful scene, with all the potential in the world, but very poorly executed here. Galatea herself looked vapid and empty. The rest of the painting indicated pure ignorance on the part of the painter. I shook my head in confusion. The giant Polyphemus was depicted with two normal eyes, when clearly he ought to have but one. Triton, for his horn, was using not a shell but an actual trumpet of brass. I nearly laughed aloud at that observation; would not such an instrument be completely destroyed by seawater? Who the devil had painted this monstrosity?”

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Book:Paint
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“In short, in contrast to the magician - who is still hidden in the medical practitioner – the surgeon at the decisive moment abstains from facing the patient man to man; rather, it is through the operation that he penetrates into him. Magician and surgeon compare to painter and cameraman. The painter maintains in his work a natural distance from reality, the cameraman penetrates deeply into its web. There is a tremendous difference between the pictures they obtain. That of the painter is a total one, that of the cameraman consists of multiple fragments which are assembled under a new law. Thus, for contemporary man the representation of reality by the film is incomparably more significant than that of the painter, since it offers, precisely because of the thoroughgoing permeation of reality with mechanical equipment, an aspect of reality which is free of all equipment. And that is what one is entitled to ask from a work of art.”

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Book:The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction: An Influential Essay of Cultural Criticism; the History and Theory of Art
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“He was a prince of the Ming dynasty. His family was very rich and very powerful. His father and grandfather were painters and famous calligraphers, and little Zhu Da had inherited their gift. So just imagine, one day, when he wasn't even eight years old yet, he drew a flower, a simple lotus flower floating on a pond. His drawing was beautiful that his mother decided to hang it in their salon. She claimed that thanks to the drawing you could feel a fresh little breeze in the huge room and you could even smell the flower's perfume when you walked by the drawing. Can you imagine? Even the perfume! And his mother was surely not an easy person to please... With both a husband and a father who were artists, she must have seen a few things by then...”

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Book:Hunting and Gathering
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“I became an artist because I wanted to be an active participant in the conversation about art.”

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Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“I hate people who collect things and classify things and give them names and then forget all about them. That’s what people are always doing in art. They call a painter an impressionist or a cubist or something and then they put him in a drawer and don’t see him as a living individual painter any more.”

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Book:The Collector
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“The new painters do not propose, any more than did their predecessors, to be geometers. But it may be said that geometry is to the plastic arts what grammar is to the art of the writer. Today, scholars no longer limit themselves to the three dimensions of Euclid. The painters have been lead quite naturally, one might say by intuition, to preoccupy themselves with the new possibilities of spatial measurement which, in the language of the modern studios, are designated by the term fourth dimension.”

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Author:Guillaume Apollinaire
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