You say great artists sell their souls for their art?”
“Maybe,” she ventured.
“That’s true, I suppose. If you’re doing it right, anyway. I’ve probably sold mine. Jack’s certainly sold his. And you, I imagine.”
“I have not!” she said, anger showing clear in her eyes.
“Not literally,” he said hastily. “But we give up being a person to be an artist, don’t we?
We need to clean our own yards before we go looking for -shit- in someone else’s.
When you forget about the how, go back to the why.
Art does not have to be dull, to be effective; the artist does not have to be a bore, to be real.
She was a gypsy, as soon as you unravelled the many layers to her wild spirit she was on her next quest to discover her magic. She was relentless like that, the woman didn’t need no body but an open road, a pen and a couple of sunsets.
I’ve always loved the night, when everyone else is asleep and the world is all mine. It’s quiet and dark-the perfect time for creativity.
A good artist should laugh often!
For the artisan, craft is an end in itself. For you, the artist, craft is the vehicle for expressing your vision. Craft is the visible edge of art.
The story comes, and it is pure story. That’s all I set out to write. But I don’t believe that we can write any kind of story without including, whether we intend to or not, our response to the world around us.
He printed business cards celebrating his shift. They read, ‘Ars gratia pecuniae.’ Translated, it meant, ‘Art for money’s sake.