Max Cannon Quotes

I grew up wanting to be a painter and paint pictures.

I think of me being a painter eventually.

When I left school, I wanted to be an artist, specifically a painter.

I originally just wanted to be an artist.

My main thing was painting; I was just going to do that.

In fact, I thought my calling was to be a painter.

Well, one always has an instinct to be a painter, and I've done quite a lot of painting at one time or another, though not with any public success.

In a perfect world, I would be a painter. I love working with my hands. I don't get to do it as much as I like, but I am finding a way to make more time as life goes on because it's a really great outlet for me to express myself.

I would have loved to have been a painter or a sculptor. I'm still fascinated by those things.

I didn't have any real idea that I was going to be an artist; I had no idea what that meant.

I love painting. I went to college in fine arts, and I still do it all the time.

My grandfather was not a musician but he was an artist - a painter, a decorative painter.

My first artistic love was drawing and painting.

Generally, when I tell people I'm a painter, they ask me if I have a card: 'Yes, we'd like this room in this color.' I still might get cards that say 'Mark Bradford. Painter.'

I'll never have enough time to paint all the pictures I'd like to.

I always wanted to be a painter. I loved painting. I went on three different art courses but had no talent whatsoever.

I came to New York to be a fine artist - that was my ambition.

The idea of being a painter, I've always thought, is better than being an artist or a sculptor.

My painting does not come from the easel.

One of my first dreams when I was a child was becoming a painter.

I always thought being an artist was a lazy job. I was wrong.

I've always wanted to be able to paint the dawn.

I don't want to be a film-maker. I think painting is far more exciting and profound.

Before I reached 10 years old, I knew I was going to be an artist.

When I heard that there were artists, I wished I could some time be one. If I could only make a rose bloom on paper, I thought I should be happy! Or if I could at last succeed in drawing the outline of winter-stripped boughs as I saw them against the sky, it seemed to me that I should be willing to spend years in trying.