Grace Slick Quotes

I don't like acrylic because you can't get the density of color. And with each coat of oil paint, the surface gets better and richer.

You can't smear acrylics, you know, it dries too fast.

I'm into using acrylic, in a complicated kind of way: Making it just as good as oil paint - better, maybe. It's odd - when I started out, acrylic was for children, pretty much. It was a cheaper paint. It wasn't supposed to look very good or last very long.

I tell young people that the greatest paintings in museums are made with minerals mixed in oil smeared on cloth with the hair from the back of a pig's ear. It's that simple.

I find that acrylics dry very fast - which is supposed to be its charm; however, I find that because of that quality they don't blend as nicely as the oils. The oils, for one thing, are softer and more flexible than the acrylics. Also, the colors are brighter with oils.

It's to paint directly on the canvas without any funny business, as it were, and I use almost pure turpentine to start with, adding oil as I go along until the medium becomes pure oil. I use as little oil as I can possibly help, and that's my method.

I trust Winsor and Newton and I paint directly upon it.

I hardly ever stretch the canvas before painting.

I painted with acrylic paint, and the reason why I went to oil was mainly because I didn't control it. I was looking for the insecurity of it. I mean, I might have found another reason later, but at that moment, the reason was I was looking for the insecurity.

I'm less Soho House these days, more Airbnb. It's just so useful to have a washing machine, or to rock up somewhere with a baby bed and all the other kit provided.

Basically with everything, I choose my criteria based on what can be easy. If I made the real world the setting, I'd have to draw looking at reference materials for stuff like buildings and vehicles. When you do that, people complain even if it's just a little bit off.

I like to compare my method with that of painters centuries ago, proceeding from layer to layer.

The secret of many of my deformations - which many people do not understand - is that there is an interaction, an intereffect between the lines in a painting: one line attracts the other and at the point of maximum attraction the lines curve in toward the attracting point and form is altered.

For those colours which you wish to be beautiful, always first prepare a pure white ground.

I've had photographs taken for portraits because I very much prefer working from the photographs than from models... I couldn't attempt to do a portrait from photographs of somebody I didn't know.

I think of my art materials not as junk but as garbage. Manure, actually: it goes from being the waste material of one being to the life-source of another.

Painting is the art of hollowing a surface.

I believe I have had the most trouble with a portrait which I painted in installments - the head on one canvas and the bust on another.

I don't work from drawings and colour sketches into a final painting. Painting, I think, today - the more immediate, the more direct - the greater the possibilities of making a direct - of making a statement.

Sometimes I scrape off a lot. You have on the floor, like cow dung in the field, this big glob of paint... and it's just a lot of inert matter, inert paint. Then I look back at the canvas, and it's not inert - it's active, moving and living.

I love movies, don't get me wrong. But I don't go to the cinema. I see movies at the end of the year as a glut from the Academy. I binge-watch all the nominated films. Painting fills that void now. It's oils. It's acrylics. It's figurative, portraits and landscape.

With experience it seems to be possible to control the flow of paint, to a great extent, and I don't use - I don't use the accident - 'cause I deny the accident... it's quite different from working, say, from a still life where you set up objects and work directly from them. I do have a general notion of what I'm about and what the results will be. I approach painting in the same sense as one approaches drawing, that is, it's direct.

On an instrument you start from one tone. In painting you start from several.

My palette contains a warm and cool of each primary, plus four modifiers: Yellow Ochre, Burnt Sienna, Blue-Violet and Phthalo Yellow-Green just mix as I go for each painting.

But ‘art’ is not anything serious or exclusive: it is the smell of oil paint, Henri Murger’s Vie de Boheme, corduroy trousers, the operatic Italian model: but the poetry, above all, of linseed oil and turpentine.