I can't even find the perfect brush so I can paint what's going through my mind. Racing 'gainst myself but I'm a couple steps behind.
My brush-strokes start in nothing and they end in nothing, and in-between you find the image.
Not even pencil or charcoal is needed. Drawing can also be done with a brush. But drawing is a must, if not, no painting can resist.
Whatever you feel or think your exact state at the exact moment of your brush touching the canvas is in some way registered in that stroke.
As an artist, all I need is my paints and brushes - and someone to drag me away when the canvas is done
The object, which is back of every true work of art, is the attainment of a state of being, a state of high functioning, a more than ordinary moment of existence. In such moments activity is inevitable, and whether this activity is with brush, pen, chisel, or tongue, its result is but a by-product of the state, a trace, the footprint of the state.
Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.
There are three proven rules for good teeth: brush after every meal; see your dentist twice a year; and mind your own business.
An artist is above all a human being, profoundly human to the core. If the artist can't feel everything that humanity feels, if the artist isn't capable of loving until he forgets himself and sacrifices himself if necessary, if he won't put down his magic brush and head the fight against the oppressor, then he isn't a great artist.
Here on the drawing board fingers and noses leak from the air brush maggots lie under if i should die before if i should die in the back room stacked up in smooth boxes like soapflakes or tunafish wait the undreamt of.
How much of your life can you account for? My life is a collage of unaccounted for brush strokes; I am all random”.
The more you paint the more fluent you are with your brush.
Well, I do expect a lot of myself. I'm a harsh critic because I know what I'm capable of. I have hit those occasional peaks amongst the valleys, but the peaks are so few-things like genuine flashes of virtuoso brush inking, like I've never executed before or since-I can count on one hand the number of jobs where I've been able to hit that mark. The same with penciling. Sometimes it just flows, but more often than not, it's pure physical and spiritual torment just to get something decent on paper. I often get very discouraged with the whole creative process.
Give the paint a chance. Give the brush a chance.
Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away. Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, Till some blind hand shall brush my wing!
We all make mistakes, as the hedgehog said as he climbed off the scrubbing brush
The hand that guides the brush has already caught and executed what floated before the mind at the same moment the mind began to form it, and in the end the pupil no longer knows which of the two-mind or hand -was responsible for the work.
Our fans have been branded with the same brush.
In counting gifts, to one thousand, more, I discover that slapping a sloppy brush of thanksgiving over everything in my life leaves me deeply thankful for very few things in my life.
The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel- Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk, and such. The bee, his hive, Well-honeyed hum, And Mother cuts Chrysanthemums. Like plates washed clean With suds, the days Are polished with A morning haze.
Maybe tomorrow is counting on me To learn my lessons today I'll start by taking a step at a time And stop throwing my blessings away I'll get myself up and I'll brush myself off And take back some of the pride that I've lost 'Cause you can't always keep your feet on the ground I guess we all learn the hard way and we all fall down
I don't consider myself to be a painter. I think of myself as someone who has used the medium of painting in an attempt to extend - give an extra dimension to - the medium of words. It happens very often my writing with a pen is interrupted with my writing with a brush - but I think of both as writing.
We have lit upon the gentle, sensitive mind And lost the old nonchalance of the hand; Whether we have chosen chisel, pen or brush, We are but critics, or but half create.
Every day you and I walk through God's shop. Every day we brush up against objects of incalculable worth to Him. People. Every one of them carries a price tag, if only we could see it.
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