I'm not some kind of machine that paints pictures.
Something in me knows where I’m going, and - well, painting is a state of being. . . . Painting is self-discovery. Every good artist paints what he is.
When the whole world turns clown, and paints itself red with its own hearts blood instead of vermilion, it is something else than comic.
Rhetoric paints with a broad brush.
all his prayers of the past had been simple concrete requests: God, give me a bicycle, a knife with seven blades, a box of oil paints. Only how, how, could you say something so indefinite, so meaningless as this: God, let me be loved.
One makes use of pigments, but one paints with one's feelings.
I have no ideas about what the paintings imply about the world. I don't think that's a painter's business. He just paints paintings without a conscious reason.
You can never have enough guitars. It's like women and shoes. . . it's nice to have different paints on your palette.
When van Gogh paints sunflowers, he reveals, or achieves, the vivid relation between himself, as man, and the sunflower, as sunflower, at that quick moment of time. His painting does not represent the sunflower itself. We shall never know what the sunflower itself is. And the camera will visualize the sunflower far more perfectly than van Gogh can.
I was always doing paintings. I actually started painting with oil paints when I was four years old. Not crayons, not pencils and that kid of stuff. I'd paint birds. Anything that moved, stuff like that.
Just as the pious man prays without speaking a word and the Almighty hearkens unto him, so the artist with true feelings paints and the sensitive man understands and recognizes it.
When one paints an ideal, one does not need to limit one's imagination.
I live in a box of paints I'm frightened by the devil And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
Every picture paints a thousand words and that one said 'goodbye'
Imagination paints a charming view of the future, conveniently adapted to the demands of our current emotion.
The mind paints before the brush.
Who told you that one paints with colors? One makes use of colors, but one paints with emotions.
I could see no reason why used tram tickets, bits of driftwood, buttons and old junk from attics and rubbish heaps should not serve well as materials for paintings; they suited the purpose just as well as factory-made paints It is possible to cry out using bits of old rubbish, and that's what I did, gluing and nailing them together.
Ever since I was very young, as far back as I can remember, I have loved making pictures. I knew even as a child that, when I grew up, I would be an artist of some kind. The lovely feeling of my pencil touching paper, a crayon making a star shape in my sketchbook, or my brush dipping into bright and colorful paints — these things affect me as joyfully today as they did all those years ago.
Best not to mix the past with the present. The present paints the past with gold. The past paints the present with lead.
