tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29944218180562206922024-03-18T22:00:38.260-07:00MUTE PAINTERVerbalization eviscerates desire.mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.comBlogger78125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-75121407329558164392021-02-02T19:18:00.005-08:002021-02-02T19:18:48.424-08:00Katia Kapovich<p class="p1" style="font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">In a 2010 interview with Marc Vincenz for <i>Open Letters Monthly</i>, </span>[Bilingual Russian poet Katia] Kapovich stated,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 18px;">“When we are young, it’s our passions that take command of us; we follow them fearlessly and sometimes win, because passions know shortcuts. That’s been good enough for many years. Now it’s experience and lots of thinking that I want to guide me and guard me. No more haste. In poetry hastiness is inappropriate. A lyrical poem is a small thing that can travel a long way. I slow myself down; I measure and weigh it in the palm again and again. Here’s my only chance, I tell myself. I have one arrow, so it better be perfect.”</span></p><p class="p1" style="color: #042eee; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none; text-decoration-line: underline;"><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/katia-kapovich">https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/katia-kapovich</a></span></p>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-88481132420368163242020-02-01T17:13:00.001-08:002020-02-01T17:13:50.002-08:00Rembrandt van Rijn<em style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #111111; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“A Painting is complete when it has a Shadow of a God”</em>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-77569088513436705862015-12-29T17:03:00.004-08:002015-12-29T17:22:44.958-08:00Joseph Brodsky<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">“[t]he poet has one more duty that explains his devotion to form: his debt to his predecessors, to those who created the poetic language he has inherited.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">“A poet’s attitude toward his predecessors is more than a question of genealogy. We do not choose our parents: it is they who choose us by giving us life.… Whatever we may think of ourselves, we are they, and they must be able to understand us if we want to understand ourselves. The more they leave to us, the richer is our language, the freer we are in the choice of means, the finer is our ear—our method of cognition—and the more nearly perfect is the world we create by ear.” </span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-24288153961948764552015-10-27T18:26:00.000-07:002015-10-27T18:28:46.633-07:00Our Valley<div style="line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“You have to remember this isn’t your land. It belongs to no one, like the sea you once lived beside and thought was yours. Remember the small boats that bobbed out as the waves rode in, and the men who carved a living from it only to find themselves carved down to nothing. Now you say this is home, so go ahead, worship the mountains as they dissolve in dust, wait on the wind, catch a scent of salt, call it our life.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">
— Excerpt from <a href="http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/our-valley" style="color: black; text-decoration: none; transition: 0.3s ease-in;" target="_blank">Our Valley</a>, by Philip Levine</div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-11869049772450767912015-10-27T18:09:00.000-07:002015-10-27T18:29:08.437-07:00Walking<span style="line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">St Francis of Assisi said ‘Solvitur ambulando’– it can be solved by walking.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">— Excerpt from </span><a href="http://penguinblog.co.uk/2015/04/24/rural-reads-pathlands-an-extract/" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify; text-decoration: none; transition: 0.3s ease-in;" target="_blank">Pathlands</a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">, by Peter Owen Jones</span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-9680914349042220672015-10-27T17:47:00.001-07:002015-10-27T17:51:57.804-07:00Travel<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“In front of the canvas, I have no ideas whatever,” [Matisse] wrote to his daughter, Marguerite, in 1929.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">The French Modernist found aesthetic sustenance in Morocco, which he visited twice between 1912 and 1913. Indeed, Matisse often turned to travel whenever he felt stymied as a painter. </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20151023-joseph-cornell-the-man-who-put-the-world-in-a-box?ocid=global_culture_rss&ocid=global_bbccom_email_26102015_culture" style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" target="_blank">http://www.bbc.com/culture/<wbr></wbr>story/20151023-joseph-cornell-<wbr></wbr>the-man-who-put-the-world-in-<wbr></wbr>a-box?ocid=global_culture_rss&<wbr></wbr>ocid=global_bbccom_email_<wbr></wbr>26102015_culture</a>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-7853069497229423492015-10-27T17:45:00.001-07:002015-10-27T17:51:46.214-07:00To Paint Is To Love Again<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">“To paint is to love again. It’s only when we look with eyes of love that we see as the painter sees. His is a love, moreover, which is free of possessiveness. What the painter sees he is duty-bound to share. Usually he makes us see and feel what ordinarily we ignore or are immune to. His manner of approaching the world tells us, in effect, that nothing is vile or hideous, nothing is stale, flat and unpalatable unless it be our own power of vision. To see is not merely to look. One must look-see. See into and around.”</span><br />
<div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; text-align: justify;">
— Henry Miller</div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-88199189319513095522015-08-21T19:13:00.002-07:002015-08-21T19:13:47.336-07:00 Saul Bellow, from Herzog
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Unexpected intrusions of beauty. That is what life is."</span></div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-67847635156397466652015-08-21T18:47:00.000-07:002015-08-21T19:14:38.581-07:00Street art celeb Banksy<div class="p1">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I’m lucky because what I make either succeeds or fails. Some people undoubtedly would tell you that’s why it’s crap art, but that’s the way it is. I feel sorry for Abstract Expressionists—how do they know when to go home?”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
- Street art celeb Banksy in an interview with Juxtapoz magazine about his new show, Dismaland</div>
<div class="p1">
http://gawker.com/banksy-on-aesthetics-1725323846</div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-3537921514451906122015-02-06T18:30:00.000-08:002015-08-21T19:13:17.833-07:00John Cage to Philip Guston<span style="font-size: large;">When you start working, everybody is in your studio—the past, your friends, enemies, the art world, and above all, your own ideas—all are there. But as you continue painting, they start leaving, one by one, and you are left completely alone. Then, if you're lucky, even you leave.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">pp 171-172 Night Studio, A Memoir of Philip Guston, by Musa Mayer, Da Capo Press 1997</span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-50548188276360886162015-01-07T14:48:00.002-08:002015-08-21T19:15:11.364-07:00Vincent Van Gogh<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Everyone who works with love and with intelligence finds in the very sincerity of his love for nature and art a kind of armor against the opinions of other people.</span></div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-79810472532641724462015-01-07T14:06:00.001-08:002015-08-21T19:15:01.588-07:00Gustave Flaubert<span style="font-size: large;">Our ignorance of history causes us to slander our own times.</span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-57866458295007577642015-01-07T13:14:00.004-08:002015-08-21T19:15:37.128-07:00Frank Lloyd Wright<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.</span></div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-82239170652042673532015-01-07T13:14:00.001-08:002015-08-21T19:15:47.672-07:00Mies van der Rohe<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My thoughts are guiding my hand, and my hand reveals the value of the thought.</span></div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-77722463973068144692014-12-16T18:33:00.001-08:002014-12-16T18:33:03.321-08:00Matisse Cutouts<span style="background-color: white; font-family: adobe-caslon-pro, Times, Georgia, serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 28px;">At first, Matisse worried that working with cut paper was cheating—a shortcut to painting—and he kept it a secret. “It is necessary not to say anything about this,” he wrote to his son Pierre, in 1931. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28px;"><span style="font-family: adobe-caslon-pro, Times, Georgia, serif; font-size: xx-small;">http://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/moma-cutouts-sophie-matisse?int-cid=mod-latest</span></span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-19553425719258278202014-10-28T11:32:00.000-07:002014-10-28T11:50:39.677-07:00Cecily Brown<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: justify;">Something that’s just glimpsed seems more real than something that’s fully described.</span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-80130463440996140572014-07-10T11:12:00.000-07:002014-07-10T11:12:21.954-07:00Sherwood Anderson<span style="background-color: white; color: #151515; font-size: 20px; line-height: 27px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The object of art is not to make salable pictures. It is to save yourself.</span></span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-21071016746615204342014-04-07T14:06:00.003-07:002014-04-07T14:07:16.959-07:00Jack Chambers<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Painting is a calculated response to perception.</span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">http://www.aci-iac.ca/jack-chambers/biography</span></div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-8093079562076660632014-03-17T18:08:00.002-07:002014-04-07T14:14:18.565-07:00Randall Jarrell<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What a pity we didn't live in an age when painters were still interested in the world.</span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-62011952078280216122014-03-04T18:24:00.003-08:002014-03-04T18:24:46.602-08:00John Cleese<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/AU5x1Ea7NjQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<h3 style="border: 0px; color: #222222; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px 0px 5px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-wrap: normal;">
<span class="watch-title yt-uix-expander-head" dir="ltr" id="eow-title" style="-webkit-user-select: auto; border: 0px; color: black; cursor: auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" title="John Cleese on Creativity"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">John Cleese on Creativity</span></span></h3>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-35430534442878014072014-02-18T20:26:00.000-08:002014-02-18T20:26:00.084-08:00This is the Life<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">...</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What would you do differently, you up on your beanstalk looking at scenes of all peoples at all times in all places? When you climb down, would you dance any less to the music you love, knowing that music to be as provisional as a bug? Somebody has to make jugs and shoes, to turn the soil, fish. If you descend the long rope-ladders back to your people and time in the fabric, if you tell them what you have seen, and even if someone cares to listen, then what? Everyone knows times and cultures are plural. If you come back a shrugging relativist or tongue-tied absolutist, then what? If you spend hours a day looking around, high astraddle the warp or woof of your people's wall, then what new wisdom can you take to your grave for worms to untangle? Well, maybe you will not go into advertising.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">...</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Say you have seen something. You have seen an ordinary bit of what is real, the infinite fabric of time that eternity shoots through, and time's soft-skinned people working and dying under slowly shifting stars. Then what?</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By Annie Dillard</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">from the Fall issue of <i>Image</i>: A Journal of the Arts and Religion, published by the Center for Religious Humanism at Seattle Pacific University. </span></div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-92132743664380304712014-01-21T17:41:00.004-08:002014-01-21T17:41:25.068-08:00Simonides<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Poema pictura loquens,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">pictura poema silens</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Poetry is a speaking picture,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">painting is a mute poetry</span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-77242924062001161332014-01-21T17:35:00.003-08:002014-01-21T17:43:12.951-08:00Horace<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Ut pictura poesis.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px;">As is </span><span style="font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">painting</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px;"> so is </span><span style="font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.1875px;">poetry</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horace" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px; text-decoration: none;" title="Horace">Horace</a>,<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19.1875px;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ars_Poetica" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Ars Poetica">Ars Poetica</a>,361-5</i></span></div>
mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-33831714537728998972014-01-21T16:37:00.000-08:002014-01-21T17:43:20.163-08:00Valery<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">In the strange faculty of doing certain things irrelevant to life with as much care, passion and persistence as if one's life depended on them . . . there we find what is called 'living.'</span></span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2994421818056220692.post-50174579638772935122014-01-14T16:45:00.005-08:002014-01-21T17:43:28.550-08:00Craig Raine<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All bad literature aspires to the condition of literature. All good literature aspires to the condition of life.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">from </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">"Poetry Today"</span></span>mute painterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05523305990690530947noreply@blogger.com0