Painting with all its technicalities, difficulties, and peculiar
ends, is nothing but a noble and expressive language, invaluable
read more

Painting with all its technicalities, difficulties, and peculiar
ends, is nothing but a noble and expressive language, invaluable
as the vehicle of thought, but by itself nothing.

From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly read more

From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with light his blended colors glow.
. . . .
The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.

The world today doesn't make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?

The world today doesn't make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?

A picture is a poem without words.

A picture is a poem without words.

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen

Vain is the hope by colouring to display
The bright effulgence of the noontide ray
Or paint read more

Vain is the hope by colouring to display
The bright effulgence of the noontide ray
Or paint the full-orb'd ruler of the skies
With pencils dipt in dull terrestrial dyes.

I only feel, but want the power to paint.
[Lat., Nequeo monstrare et sentio tantum.]

I only feel, but want the power to paint.
[Lat., Nequeo monstrare et sentio tantum.]

A flattering painter, who made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they read more

A flattering painter, who made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.

Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things

Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things