Finally, when someone asked [Pollack] how he knew when a painting was finished, he replied, “How do you know when you’ve finished making love?

Ross Wetzsteon

Tags: painting painter jackson-pollack



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Hans then asked him about painting from nature; Jackson...bluntly offered a phrase that entered Village lore, “I am nature.

Ross Wetzsteon

Tags: painting jackson-pollack



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Every now and then one paints a picture that seems to have opened a door and serves as a stepping stone to other things.

Pablo Picasso

Tags: art painting picture door stepping-stone



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If I didn't start painting, I would have raised chickens.

Grandma Moses

Tags: art painting chickens



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It is not your paintings I like, it is your painting.

Albert Camus

Tags: painting albert-camus



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Painting reflects. It kills you in a colourful shower of emptiness. Flatness. Randomness. And beauty. Yes, it is the most pure beauty I have ever felt in my life.

Nigel Tomm

Tags: beauty painting



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I visit him a few times downtown
while he paints.
We talk about how he's going to Spain
for the fall semester
and he shows me a painting he did
and points to this one part,
a bridge, and tells me he thought of me
when he painted it.
It is so sad
how knowing something
so small
can make me so happy.

Samantha Schutz

Tags: painting



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I say that good painters imitated nature; but that bad ones vomited it.

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Tags: art nature painting



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All you need to paint is a few tools, a little instruction, and a vision in your mind.

Bob Ross

Tags: painting



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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? Where do
you belong? You belong by rights to girls like Lizzie Connolly.
You belong with the legions of toil, with all that is low, and
vulgar, and unbeautiful. You belong with the oxen and the drudges,
in dirty surroundings among smells and stenches. There are the
stale vegetables now. Those potatoes are rotting. Smell them,
damn you, smell them. And yet you dare to open the books, to
listen to beautiful music, to learn to love beautiful paintings, to
speak good English, to think thoughts that none of your own kind
thinks, to tear yourself away from the oxen and the Lizzie
Connollys and to love a pale spirit of a woman who is a million
miles beyond you and who lives in the stars! Who are you? and what
are you? damn you! And are you going to make good?

Jack London

Tags: love music painting smell



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