Quotes About Introspection

A common defect of modern art study is that too many students do not know why they draw.

Sometimes an artist's first invention is herself.

The inner drama is the meaning of the exterior event.

The only real influence I've ever had is myself.

That's what attracts us to serious paintings, I think: that shortfall, which we might call "personality", or maybe even "pain".

She must disappear for a time from the human surface, And sacrifice everything for this, To recreate herself from the depths of her world.

If you're going to be an artist, you've got to make your work your best friend, that you can go to whatever you're feeling, and have a conversation with it.

A piece of art that speaks to you can open windows in a room you hadn't even known was dark.

Great art is an escape from the agony of why.

The creation of art requires descent into the dark.

Art exists not inside the piece itself, but inside the mind of the viewer.

The creative hopeless.

I've done everything I wanted to do, writing books, learning about things, but I've been swindled all the same because it's never anything more.

After being hurt by the world so much, they began to see the demons within humans. So without hiding it through trickery, they worked to express it.

Often when she liked a picture she found that she was liking some part of herself, some part of her that was in accord with the picture

Question everything, even the question mark, that shepherd's crook floating in the air above that small round rockIf you - stubbornly - still wish to be unhappy, maybe you can grasp it.

I paint the stuff I see when my eyes are closed

Me: "All right, but you said we had to put emotion into our art. I don't know what that means. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel.

For me, art that's alive and urgent is about what it is to be a human being.

I look for ambiguity because life is ambiguous!

Know everything. Say nothing.

Thanks to my art, I now know who I am.

Abstract is a journey through both my mind and my past.

Art gropes it stalks like a hunter lost in the woods listening to itself and to everything around it unsure of itself waiting to pounce.