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Famous Artist Quotes

Published May 28, 2018 by Gail Daley Writer & Artist
  • Salvador Dali
  • “If you understand the painting beforehand, you might as well not paint it!” –
  • Michelangelo
    A man paints with his brains and not with his hands.
  • Vincent van Gogh
    An artist needn’t be a clergyman or a churchwarden, but he certainly must have a warm heart for his fellow men.
  • Pablo Picasso
    Are we to paint what’s on the face, what’s inside the face, or what’s behind it?
  • Pablo Picasso
    Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.
  • Leonardo da Vinci
    Beyond a doubt truth bears the same relation to falsehood as light to darkness.
  • Claude Monet
    Color is my day long obsession, joy and torment.
  • Michelangelo
    Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.
  • Pablo Picasso
    Everything you can imagine is real.
  • Francis Bacon
    I don’t think people are born artists; I think it comes from a mixture of your surroundings, the people you meet, and luck. It is not hereditary, thank goodness.
  • Pablo Picasso
    I paint objects as I think them, not as I see them.
  • Claude Monet
    It’s on the strength of observation and reflection that one finds a way. So we must dig and delve unceasingly.
  • Andy Warhol
    Making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art.
  • Pablo Picasso
    Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.
  • Rembrandt van Rijn
    Practise what you know, and it will help to make clear what now you do not know.
  • Leonardo da Vinci
    Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.
  • Pablo Picasso
    The chief enemy of creativity is “good” sense.
  • Leonardo da Vinci
    The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions.
  • Leonardo da Vinci
    The smallest feline is a masterpiece.
  • Henri Matisse
    There are always flowers for those who want to see them.

 

  • “Colour is fun, colour is just plain gorgeous, a gourmet meal for the eye, the window of the soul.” – Rachel Wolf.
  • “On the floor I am more at ease. I feel nearer, more a part of the painting, since this way I can walk around it, work from the four sides and literally be in the painting.” – Jackson Pollock (1912-1956), on drip painting.
  • “Like emotions, colours are a reflection of life.” – Janice Glennaway
  • “If you didn’t have fantasies you wouldn’t have problems because you’d take whatever was there. But then you wouldn’t have romance, because romance is finding your fantasy in people who don’t have it.” – Andy Warhol, 1970
  • “Painting is by nature a luminous language.” – Robert Delaunay
  • “The attitude that nature is chaotic and that the artist puts order into it is a very absurd point of view, I think. All that we can hope for is to put some order into ourselves.” – Willem de Kooning, 1968
  • “The profoundest order is revealed in what is most casual.” – Faifield Porter, 1969
  • “To draw is to make a shape and movement in time.” – Stuart Davis, 1951
  • “The child is really an artist, and the artist should be like a child, but he should not stay a child. He must become an artist. That means he cannot permit himself to become sentimental or something like that. He must know what he is doing” – Hans Hofmann, (1880 – 1966)
  • “To wake the soul by tender strokes of art” – Alexander Pope
  • “I foresee it and yet I hardly ever carry it out as I foresee it. It transforms itself by the actual paint. I don’t in fact know very often what the paint will do, and it does many things which are very much better than I could make it do” – Francis Bacon, 1963
  • “If you could say it in words, there’d be no reason to paint.” – Edward Hopper
  • “I sense a scream passing through nature. I painted … the clouds as actual blood. The colour shrieked.” – Edvard Munch, on his painting The Scream.
  • “Colour and I are one. I am a painter.” – Paul Klee, 1914.
  • “Calligraphy’s biggest struggle is not with ink . . .It’s that memory is action minus think!” – from the notebook of Brett Whiteley
  • “. . . .its really a tightrope sort of thing, living” – Joy Hester 1920 – 1960
  • “Design is like gravity – the force that holds it all together.” – E A Whitney
  • “Above all keep your colours fresh!” – Edouard Manet (1832 – 83)
  • “The essential of painting is that something, that ‘ethereal glue,’ that intermediary product which the artist secrets with all his creative being and which he has the power to place, to encrust, to impregnate into the pictorial stuff of the painting.” – Yves Klein (1928-1962).
  • “When you start a painting, it is somewhat outside you. At the conclusion, you seem to move inside the painting.” – Fernando Botero
  • “They’ll sell you thousands of greens. Veronese green and emerald green and cadmium green and any sort of green you like; but that particular green, never.”
    Pablo Picasso, 1966.
  • “Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up” – Pablo Picasso
  • “There is no must in art because art is free” Wassily Kandinsky
  • “How painting surpasses all human works by reason of the subtle possibilities which it contains.”
    Leonado da Vinci 1452 – 1519
  • “Painting is just another way of keeping a diary” – Pablo Picasso
  • “Painting is an attempt to come to terms with life. There are as many solutions as there are human beings” – George Tooker
  • “The painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through.”
    – Jackson Pollock 1912-1956
  • “I shut my eyes in order to see” – Paul Gauguin
  • “Artists who seek perfection in everything are those who cannot attain it in anything.” – Eugene Delacroix
  • “As practice makes perfect, I cannot but make progress; each drawing one makes, each study one paints, is a step forward.” Vincent van Gogh 1853 – 1890
  • “As an artist. It is central to be unsatisfied! This isn’t greed, though it might be appetite.” – Lawrence Calcagno
  • “Creativity is . . . seeing something that doesn’t exist already. You need to find out how you can bring it into being and that way be a playmate with God.” – Michele Shea
  • “Painting isn’t so difficult when you don’t know … But when you do … it’s quite a different matter!”
    Edgar Degas 1834 – 1917
  • “I cannot expect even my own art to provide all of the answers – only to hope it keeps asking the right questions.” – Grace Hartigan
  • “The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless.” – Jean-Jacques Rousseau
  • Life is like a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can.- unknown
  • “There is a logic of colours, and it is with this alone, and not with the logic of the brain, that the painter should conform.” – Paul Cezanne
  • “Art? You just do it.” – Martin Ritt
  • “Just as eating contrary to the inclination is injurious to health, so study without desire spoils the memory, and it retains nothing that it takes in” Leonado da Vinci, 1452 – 1519
  • “Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things.” – Edgar Degas
  • “To be an artist, one must . . . never shirk from the truth as he understands it, never withdraw from life” Diego Rivera (1886 – 1957).
  • ” The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery.” – Francis Bacon
  • “Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” Pablo Picasso (1881 – 1873),
  • “Art happens – no hovel is safe from it, no prince can depend on it, the vastest intelligence cannot bring it about” – James Abbott MC Nrill Whistler
  • “On the floor I am more at ease. I feel nearer, more a part of the painting, since this way I can walk around it, work from the four sides and literally be in the painting.” Jackson Pollock (1912-1956), on drip painting.
  • “No amount of skillful invention can replace the essential element of imagination.” – Edward Hopper
  • “As a child I drew like Raphael but it has taken me a lifetime to draw like a child.” Pablo Picasso (1881 – 1873),
  • ” For me a painting is like a story which stimulates the imagination and draws the mind into a place filled with expectation, excitement, wonder and pleasure”
    – J. P. Hughston, painter
  • Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. – unknown
  • ” A painting is never finished – it simply stops in interesting places.” – Paul Gardner

Earning Residual Income With Your Art

Published May 21, 2018 by Gail Daley Writer & Artist

We may as well admit it: all of us secretly want to not only create fabulous art but want the public to appreciate it so much they pay us fabulous prices for it. The wonderful thing about making prints of our work is it a way to earn residual income on our art. If an artist sells a painting for $500 that is a one-time fee; if that same artist also sells 20 prints for $15 each then they have earned a total of $800 on that same painting.
Naturally as an artist, you want any reproductions of your art to reflect the quality of the art itself, which means you want to make the best quality reproductions you can find. I have had several artists ask me where they can get good quality prints made at a reasonable price. It’s a good question. There are two ways to go with this: make the prints yourself or get them made professionally.

If you are planning to make them yourself, besides the printer, you will need a good quality camera that takes high-resolution photos (Canon Rebel is excellent but there are others out there). I don’t recommend a point-and-shoot camera or your cell phone if you intend to make professional looking reproductions; although the smart phone photo quality is improving, I did notice that quality seemed to suffer with larger size prints. I would also recommend a good photo-editing program such as Photoshop Elements. I chose Elements because it will service either Apple or PC computers, the basic editing techniques are simple and it does have tutorials.

A printer that prints on a variety of paper products is essential if you are making your own prints. What brand of printer makes the best prints? Well, there are a lot of differing opinions on this, all having to do with what kind of ink will give you the truest colors, how easy they are to use, whether to use ink jet or laser printers, etc. Making the prints yourself does mean that you are probably going to be limited to paper and the sizes you can make; most home printers will only take legal or letter size paper. The printer that gave me the very best prints I ever made at home was an inexpensive Kodak printer. Unfortunately it proved too fragile to last long. Epson, Brother and HP all make good machines that will give you nice paper prints. You can even obtain letter size “canvas paper’ for printing on the internet, although I wasn’t really happy with the quality of the prints I made with it on my home printer. If you are going to make prints yourself, you should consider the cost of the ink. Many ink jet printers devour ink pods like a T-Rex. If you make a lot of reproductions, Ink jet refills can be so expensive that you might find it less costly to get your prints made by a print shop. Laser printers also make good quality prints, but a color laser printer and the toner to go with it can also break your budget. You will need to decide if the cost of the printing will allow you to still make sales at a profit.

The next option is to have your prints made by a professional printer. I am speaking here of commercial printers such as Kinkos or CopyMax’s Impress. The photo departments of Costco, Walgreens, Wal-Mart etc. may not give you a professional quality print because their print programs are designed to “flatten or homogenize” color to an “average” standard, however they also will work with you on this issue because they want your return business. Most of them can also do a canvas print mounted on stretcher bars. Again, ask for a proof because if you have vibrant, saturated or delicate shades you may find your print simply doesn’t reflect these qualities.

To use an outside printer you need a high-resolution jpeg or other type of photo of your work. If you are not a photographer, I suggest you arrange to have a professional take the photo in order to ensure that the photo has no distortions and that the color is true to the original art. You can have the photo transferred to either a jump drive or disc. An issue with having your prints made by someone else that doesn’t come up with DIY (Do It Yourself) printing: calibrating their printer to your photos. Calibrating a printer has nothing to do with the printer type; it has to do with communication between the computer and the printer. Even if the photo from your thumb disc looks okay on their computer screen, the print may still come out darker or lighter than your art. Always ask for a proof before accepting the print because it may be necessary for you to take your disc or jump drive home so that you can adjust the lighting or color of the photo in order to make the print “true” to the original when using an outside printer. If you do this, always save the “adjusted” photo as a separate file and leave the original alone. Making these changes is much easier if you are dealing with a local printer.

The other option for having your prints made is to find a local professional who specializes in making art prints. Here in Fresno we have several but Mullins Photography is the one most favored by local artists. If you bring in your art, they make their own scan and reproduce a print that is virtually identical to the original. Ask other local artists in your area where they get their prints made. Be prepared to open your wallet for this option though; because the cost of the initial set up fee will be more expensive than say Kinkos or Impress. On the other hand, it probably will be a one-time fee for that particular piece of art and the quality will be the best.

You can also order prints from the internet; a number of Internet sites do on-line printing. These sites are sometimes referred to as POD (Print On Demand) sites, and most of them do an excellent job. Fine Art America for instance will not only make your prints on a variety of paper, metal, cards and canvas, but also sell matting and framing and ship to your customer. With on-line printers however, you will have the same difficulties with the calibration as with your local outside printer. Since you can’t demand a proof from this type of site, I would suggest you get a small print made for yourself and adjust the photo. Keep notes on what you did so that you can use them when sending in later prints.

Adding A Pet To Your Family

Published May 14, 2018 by Gail Daley Writer & Artist

My new husband was a hunter, so one of our first mutual purchase after a waterbed was a hunting dog. At first, Vernon attempted to perpetrate to me the myth (passed on in urtro to apprentice hunters) that if a hunting dog became a pet he would be unable to attend to business properly when taken out in the field. I suspect this myth originated with someone’s poorly trained hunting dog and reverberated down through unsuspecting junior hunters because hunting is an apprentice sport; either you learn it as a child from your male relatives or are introduced to it as an adult by a friend/spouse. At any rate, after I explained that no dog who lived with us was going to be isolated we decided on a Brittany.

Brittanies are sweet, loving companions. They are also fierce hunters and will go all day and be ready to go the next morning despite any stiffness or injury. Besides, they’re beautiful with their orange and white coats criss-crossing a brushy field, freezing on point, or flashing back in a retrieve. As an artist, I fell in love with their gorgeous fall-colored coats and with their equally gorgeous personalities. My husband, always a sucker for red-heads, also fell in love with their hunting ability.

Being “uneducated dog people” after deciding on a hunting dog breed, we searched the want ads in the local paper for Brittiany puppies. Because no one had ever made a movie popularizing them, most Brittany’s obtained even from so-called “back yard breeders’ (meaning they have never heard of genetics or breeding for the better of the breed) still come from good stock.

We named our first Brittany Duchess. Later I nicknamed her “baby alligator” because she never found ANYTHING she wouldn’t chew. Everyone in the house (apart from my mother who put hers in a drawer) lost at least one pair of shoes. When scolded for leaving a puddle in the floor, she ran to my husband and complained loudly about my behavior.

We have had a variety of Brittanies over the years. My husband and I discovered Brittanies are large dogs disguised in a medium dog package. They have endless energy and find unorthodox ways of amusing themselves if they are not kept occupied. We once made the mistake of leaving an 8-month-old puppy alone in the house while we walked to neighborhood fair. When we returned three hours later, we found he had occupied himself in our absence with the destruction of a footstool. The entire living room was covered in shredded foam and upholstery fabric. We also learned to tolerate a game we called “freeway” which consisted of dogs chasing each other through the house sometimes in pursuit of a thrown tennis ball, but also just for the sheer joy of running.

I was learning to be an educated dog person too. By sheer chance I picked up a copy of a dog magazine at a local pet store and my education began. About this time, we also obtained our first Brittany from a regular breeder and were astonished by the catechism he put us through, never having encountered it before. Apparently, we passed muster because we were allowed to depart with a puppy. From my reading, I later learned that responsible breeders ALWAYS want to know how you are going to raise “their” puppy, what kind of yard you have, how much you know about the breed, etc. The pup we got was beautiful and energetic with a firmer temperament than those we obtained from our backyard breeders. Of course, he also devoured stuffed animals, climbed the tree in the backyard (I have pictures) and chased rats in the garage through my husband’s floor-to-ceiling storage shelves. He’s a Brittany.

After I lost Maxwell to old age, it was several years before I again found a dog who would claim me. Her name was Missy Shep (she was border collie and something very hairy—I suspect Samoyed) and my husband found her shivering out by the equipment at one of his commercial pool sites early one fall morning. When no one claimed her (it was a “no pets” complex) we kept her. She learned to sit up when she was a few weeks old and now if you opened the refrigerator, she came and “up” for you, which made it very hard to resist giving her a treat. I took her in to be groomed and when I picked her up, the groomers gave me the kind of look parents give one another when a child is spoiled rotten. They explained that they had to teach her that she couldn’t lie down either in the tub or on the grooming table. Of course, I knew she did this having given her several baths at home in our tub before she developed such a lot of hair. Since she now weighed about 50 pounds I had concluded it was easier to give in and let her lie down. She preferred a pillow under her head when she was brushed also.

I also educated my son to become a dog person (an educated one I hope). His Brittany was a sweet, liver and white miss who liked to sit in laps and cuddle. She slept in his room by his bed. Like all Brittanies she had less-than-perfect night vision and once woke the entire house by shrilly sounding an alarm when I entered his room after he was asleep. I don’t know why Brittanys night vision is so poor, but I suspect it may be because upland game birds are usually hunted in the daylight. However, after years of being barked at by our own dogs when we made midnight trips to the bathroom, we learned to leave lights on for them at night. After Anna passed away from old age, Andrew became a cat person, although he tolerates dogs he is familiar with.

I am not yet a completely educated dog person. I am still intimidated by the idea of calling the AKC to find out if there are local kennel clubs in my area.

The Killing Season Commeth

Published May 7, 2018 by Gail Daley Writer & Artist

Why am I writing this now? Well, it’s spring and in case you didn’t know, in Pet Rescue Circles, Spring is known as “the killing season”. Hundreds of thousands of kittens, cats, dogs and puppies are put to death each year, but the number doubles during the spring due to so many being born. It’s time to ask yourself: is your pet a member of your family? Would you get rid of your child or your mother because you were moving, and the apartment  or house didn’t allow them? If the answer is yes, you don’t deserve to have pets. Sorry if this offends you, but it’s my opinion and I’m not ashamed of it.

I’ve always been a pet person. I grew up a pet person. Not an educated cat or dog person, although I wasn’t aware of it at the time. Does this mean I never went to School? On the contrary. What is a “pet person?”, an “educated pet Person? A real pet person greets a cat upon entering a house; if a human is out walking the dog they usually speak to the pet first; they remember who the person is by what kind of dog or cat they live with; and above all, they would no more dream of getting rid of a cat or dog because they were moving and it was inconvenient to keep them or because they suddenly didn’t match their decorator scheme, than they would get rid of Old Aunt Hattie because she makes horrid apple pies. An educated pet person is pretty much the same, but an educated dog person can also tell you what a puppy mill is, how to obtain information about dog breeders, they may even have the phone number of the American or United Kennel Club and not be too intimidated to use it if they want information. An educated cat person doesn’t let their cats risk their lives out of doors unless they are supervised.

Growing up we always had a dog and usually a cat. The cats were useful; they diligently hunted vermin, and no mice or rats ate the rubber fittings of any washer or dryer in a garage where they held sway. They were regarded as an extension of family; the dogs were—er—dog-kin, as it were. The cats were too sure they were superior to be kin to us.

I was born into a home with two dogs; a lovely, russet cocker spaniel appropriately named Lady (short for Lady Bug) who belonged to my mother and stuck like Velcro to her. We also owned a handsome German Shepard named Colonel, who my father had obtained from another worker at Douglas Air Base. Despite his military name, our Colonel loved children and had to be removed from the room if my mother wished to discipline me for some childish infraction. He once refused to let a stranger into the front yard when I was playing there (the stranger later proved to be my father’s long-lost younger brother whom he hadn’t seen since the brother was about five).

Our dogs slept in the house, or in the case of my grandmother, in her bed. She claimed a warm Chihuahua kept her blood pressure down and prevented arthritis and lowered her blood pressure. My father would retort that there was no scientific basis for such a claim and that persons who lay down with dogs got up with fleas. He has since been proven wrong about the blood pressure; Doctors now agree that stroking animals DOES lower blood pressure. It’s too bad Granny is no longer with us to rub it in to my father (also passed away—so I can suppose she does this in the afterlife) that she was right, and he was wrong.

I believe my parents aversion to having the dogs sleep with them began with my mother, who once had the unenviable task of assisting my 9-year-old self to remove the residue when I decided to emulate my Grandmother and take one of her Chihuahua pups to bed with me. Since the puppy wasn’t yet housebroken, was too small to get down off the bed, and I didn’t wake up to put her out as I’d promised, you can imagine the messy, smelly result.

My mother’s Chihuahua was brown, with seal points and great dark eyes. She slept in a box by my mother’s bed on a heating pad, whose cover was lovingly washed each week with the household laundry. During the day, she slept on my mother’s lap when she wasn’t eating. Minimal activity and a voracious appetite soon meant that Fifi lost her girlish figure and resembled and overstuffed balloon. She also put my mother’s legs to sleep.

My father’s oversize red Chihuahua, Jiggs, had a divided allegiance. By day he was my father’s shadow on construction sites, going fearlessly up ladders onto roofs, drinking cold coffee out of my father’s cup when he wasn’t looking, and fiercely defending the open windows of the work truck when he was left on guard if my father had to enter a store where dogs weren’t welcomed. By night, he joined my Grandmother and his father and mother in a snoring contest.

As I said, although we loved our pets, we weren’t educated enough to confine our cats to the house, or to get our male (a handsome black cat named Merlin) neutered (my father, doubtless in mistaken sympathy refused to have this done because he thought it would make Merlin less of a tom), so the dogs in the neighborhood lived in fear of Tabby, whose father had been the terror of the neighborhood in his day, and Merlin sired countless kittens, thus contributing to the untimely deaths of his progeny.

Between Colonel, Lady and the Chihuahua’s came the very first dog who considered himself mydog. He was a Sheltie my father rescued from the local dog pound. I was persuaded to call him Laddie once I was convinced that it would be wrong to name a male dog Lassie. Little did my parents or I know of the great cross-dressing hoax perpetrated on unsuspecting America by Hollywood, that the real Lassie was, in fact, not a lassie at all but a Lad. I remember Laddie as the most loving of companions. He would sit patiently through my 4-year old attempts at brushing him. He put up with sand crabs from the beach being given a ride on his back, and herded me back from the water if he thought I was going out too far. He also lent an industrious paw to the excavating of various sand castles.

Despite the parade of Chihuahua’s and other small dogs that my family collected, I didn’t find another dog who accepted me as his person until after I graduated from High School. He was a Terrier/Poodle mix who was born to my mother’s pocket-size terrier. I christened him Maxwell because his personality reminded me of a naughty computer in a science fiction book I was reading at the time. Max had medium-long, soft red fur with a blond fuzzy undercoat. He was a true terrier; determined, fierce in battle, always ready for adventure, and endlessly faithful. For the next 17 years, he was my constant companion. Max loved to play fetch. He once wore the pads of his feet raw chasing a stick thrown by my husband’s younger brother. As far as he was concerned, any dog bigger than he was had better be able to prove it. Surprisingly, he never got even a scratch out of all the fights he started. Like all terriers, he obeyed me only when he thought it was warranted. When I got married, he took to hunting with my husband as if born to it; flushing pheasant out from under bushes and chasing ducks at the slough.

His influence was great; I once decided a potential boyfriend just wouldn’t do because Max didn’t like him. If the truth be told the feeling was mutual. Max expressed his displeasure by attempting the hike his leg on the young man at every opportunity, and when the young man had the audacity to state that dogs belonged outside it was the end. Max was tenacious. When he laid a tooth on a stick, you could literally lift the stick off the ground with him attached if he wasn’t ready to let it go.

 

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