Who art thou, Art? Do you make art the way I make love—with a paintbrush?
I want to be the guy who the guy you admire admires. I hope his name is Guy, because I admire M.C. Escher.
If love were a collection of collections, would your relationship be banged-up baseball cards, or famous art? My love for you is famous art. You just have to wait for my death so my work can be honored posthumously, bringing in money precisely when I...
I drew a portrait of an invisible man on a nice canvas, because that's all you see. Oh, and I used a nice frame. I think that's important. I believe the best art uses the most imagination.
I put my deodorant on like I’m painting my armpits with a paintbrush. Art is everywhere and in everything—especially love.
The world is my canvas, and my ponytail is my paintbrush. Helen Keller probably had a ponytail too, though my art has more vision. Barely.
Drawing on my past experiences, I used a lot of erasers. My aging wisdom is starting to look a lot like a nude portrait of Alice Neel.
I’m stoic like a statue of Stonewall Jackson. I’d make a great U.S. President, but I’d make an even better chiseled piece of marble—and that’s what makes me such an amazing lover.
It’s very hard to whisper in your own ear. Love is an art, but as an artist, I guess I’m no Van Gogh.
Art books are filled with interesting images. And that’s cool and all, but I look more for the nudes.
Making art can be a mystical, spiritual experience. Sort of like golfing on water, which I haven’t done, because I’m more Michael Phelps and less Michael Phelps.
Snow on one side of the canvas, silence on the other. I’d call that a perfect painting.
A blank canvas is so abstract that only imagination can fill it. But wait! Don't hang it on the wall like that. It's upside down.
How’s my mom? My mother’s well, like a painting—a Motherwell.
An ice sculpture in the Sahara makes about as much sense as donkey left open gaping wagon, Sergeant (add cream cheese sparingly).
As a sculptor, I prefer busts. As a lover of women, I prefer busts. And as a football enthusiast, I prefer Robert Griffin III.
I make art and I make love, and I almost always do both at the same time. If the cops ask, I’ll tell them I was framed. Same goes for the museum.
If you see me sitting at a dining room table with a clean plate and bowl in front of me, you’ll know it’s because I’m a starving artist. I’m also thirsty, as my cup is also empty.
We’re all artists. It’s just most people keep their inner artist locked behind their rib cage.
As an atheist hates Christmas, I hate the fourth of July.
I wanted to observe how a genuine people person, who happens to also be a salesman, handles himself in the presence of a stranger. And few people are stranger than me, so I was paying close attention.
