Quoted

Added on by Natalie Grasso.
Wassily Kandinsky, Improvisation 27 (Garden of Love II), 1912

Wassily Kandinsky, Improvisation 27 (Garden of Love II), 1912

"A Dresden doctor relates [an example] of one of his patients, whom he designates as an 'exceptionally sensitive person,' that he could not eat a certain sauce without tasting 'blue,' i.e. without experiencing a feeling of seeing a blue color. It would be possible to suggest, by way of explanation of this, that in highly sensitive people, the way to the soul is so direct and the soul itself so impressionable, that any impression of taste communicates itself immediately to the soul, and thence to the other organs of sense (in this case, the eyes). This would imply an echo or reverberation, such as occurs sometimes in musical instruments which, without being touched, sound in harmony with some other instrument struck at the moment."

And then, a few paragraphs down, this gorgeousness:

"Generally speaking, color is a power which directly influences the soul. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand which plays, touching one key or another, to cause vibrations in the soul."

—Wassily Kandinsky, Concerning the Spiritual in Art, 1914

Quoted

Added on by Natalie Grasso.

"If you're designing on a computer, you've got a ready-made image and you don't like this and you don't like that, so you get it altered. And you don't have to do all this handwork. But what you lose and what you miss is, the idea's coming while you're drawing, you've got time to think and one idea will grow out of another." —Marthe Armitage

Quoted

Added on by Natalie Grasso.
The Terrace by Pierre Bonnard, 1918; Image via The Phillips Collection

The Terrace by Pierre Bonnard, 1918; Image via The Phillips Collection

"As they left the house he realized that instead of seizing the opportunity to explore every nook of it, he sat all afternoon in one room and merely dreamed of what he might have seen in the others. But that was always his way: the least little fragment of fact was enough for him to transform into a palace of dreams, whereas if he tried to grasp more of it at a time it remained on his hands as so much unusable reality." —Edith Wharton, Hudson River Bracketed