I Felt As If There Were Invisible

Art Comes From Joy And Pain...but Mostly From Pain.

This Kind Of Painting With Its Large Frames Is A Bourgeois Drawing-room Art. It Is An Art Dealer's Art-and That Came In After The Civil Wars Following The French Revolution.

My Fear Of Life Is Necessary To Me, As Is My Illness. Without Anxiety And Illness, I Am A Ship Without A Rudder. My Art Is Grounded In Reflections Over Being Different From Others. My Sufferings Are Part Of My Self And My Art. They Are Indistinguishable From Me, And Their Destruction Would Destroy My Art. I Want To Keep Those Sufferings

The Rich Man Who Gives, Steals Twice Over. First He Steals The Money And Then The Hearts Of Men.

A Work Of Art Comes Only From Inside A Human Being.