Spring is my sweetheart.
The fundamental grey which differentiates the masters, expresses them and is the soul of all colour.
While I recognize the necessity for a basis of observed reality. . . true art lies in a reality that is felt.
True art lies in a reality that is felt.
I have often, as an exercise and as a sustenance, painted before an object down to the smallest accidents of its visual appearance; but the day left me sad and with an unsatiated thirst. The next day I let the other source run, that of imagination, through the recollection of the forms and I was then reassured and appeased.
I await joyous surprises while working, an awakening of the materials that I work with and that my spirit develops.
It is precisely from the regret left by the imperfect work that the next one can be born.
I often wonder if God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down?
The singer alone does not make a song, there has to be someone who hears. -Broken Song
Bloggers are people too you rappers!
If hard work were such a wonderful thing, surely the rich would have kept it all to themselves.