What do you think an artist is? An imbecile who has only his eyes if he is a painter, or his ears if he is a musician, or a lyre at every level of his heart if he is a poet, or, if he is merely a boxer, only his muscle? On the contrary, he is at the same time a political being, constantly alert to the heartrending, burning, or happy events in the world, molding himself in their likeness.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing
without work.
The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing
without work.
I've been relying very heavily on my instincts as of late, and my songwriting has come to depend on my read more
I've been relying very heavily on my instincts as of late, and my songwriting has come to depend on my ability to surrender to the inspiration whenever it strikes. When I clear my mind and let the music take over, my hands seem to move on their own, and my voice utters words I haven't premeditated. This is pure instinct. It's like riding a wave. You just take a deep breath, hop on, and hang on as long as you can. That's basically how I songwrite when I'm composing impromptu pieces. It's a lot like channeling. Or free associating. And it's super fun, because anything can happen! It's pure creativity.
Genius can probably run on ahead and seek out new ways; but the good artists who follow after genius - read more
Genius can probably run on ahead and seek out new ways; but the good artists who follow after genius - and I count myself among these - have to restore the lost connection once more.
Of all human struggles there is none so treacherous and
remorseless as the struggle between the artist man and read more
Of all human struggles there is none so treacherous and
remorseless as the struggle between the artist man and the mother
woman.
A true artist will let his wife starve, his children go barefoot,
his mother drudge for his living at read more
A true artist will let his wife starve, his children go barefoot,
his mother drudge for his living at seventy, sooner than work at
anything but his art.
Bad artists always admire each others work.
Bad artists always admire each others work.
Identity is theft of the self
Identity is theft of the self
Good artists copy, great artists steal.
Good artists copy, great artists steal.
Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing.
Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing.
