“Don’t be an art critic. Paint. There lies salvation.”

The painter unfolds that which has not been seen.

I allow no one to touch me.

If isolation tempers the strong, it is the stumbling-block of the uncertain.

I am progressing very slowly, for nature reveals herself to me in very complex forms; and the progress needed is incessant.

Right now a moment of time is passing by! We must become that moment.

There is a logic of colors, and it is with this alone, and not with the logic of the brain, that the painter should conform.

Everything in nature takes its form from the sphere, the cone and the cylinder.

Michelangelo is a constructor, and Rafael an artist who, great as he is, is always limited by the model. When he tries to be thoughtful he falls below the niveau of his great rival.

It’s so fine and yet so terrible to stand in front of a blank canvas.

Tell me, do you think I’m going mad? I sometimes wonder, you know.

Painting, like any art, comprises a technique, a workmanlike handling of material, but the accuracy of a tone and the fictitious combination of effects depend entirely on the choice made by the artist.

Tell me, do you think I’m going mad? I sometimes wonder, you know.

I could paint for a hundred years, a thousand years without stopping and I would still feel as though I knew nothing.

There is no model, there is only color.

When the color achieves richness, the form attains its fullness also.

Pure drawing is an abstraction.