When I Judge Art, I Take My

An Optical Impression Is Produced On Our Organs Of Sight Which Makes Us Classify As Light, Half-tone Or Quartertone, The Surfaces Represented By Colour Sensations. So That Light Does Not Exist For The Painter.

Under This Fine Rain I Breathe In The Innocence Of The World. I Feel Coloured By The Nuances Of Infinity. At This Moment I Am One With My Picture. We Are An Iridescent Chaos.

Light Is A Thing That Cannot Be Reproduced, But Must Be Represented By Something Else - By Color.

An Art Which Isn't Based On Feeling Isn't An Art At All.

Literature Expresses Itself By Abstractions, Whereas Painting, By Means Of Drawing And Colour, Gives Concrete Shape To Sensations And Perceptions.