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Every time I paint a portrait I lose a friend.
Every time I paint a portrait I lose a friend.
And those who paint 'em truest praise 'em most.
And those who paint 'em truest praise 'em most.
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.
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.
Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.
Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.
One picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the
applause of mankind, from generation to generation until read more
One picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the
applause of mankind, from generation to generation until the
colors fade and blacken out of sight or the canvas rot entirely
away.
Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?
Who sees the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter?
The fellow mixes blood with his colors.
The fellow mixes blood with his colors.
I mix them with my brains, sir.
I mix them with my brains, sir.
