When I Paint Green, It Doesn't Mean

I Have Always Sought To Be Understood And, While I Was Taken To Task By Critics Or Colleagues, I Thought They Were Right, Assuming I Had Not Been Clear Enough To Be Understood. This Assumption Allowed Me To Work My Whole Life Without Hatred And Even Without Bitterness Toward Criticism, Regardless Of Its Source. I Counted Solely On The Clarity Of Expression Of My Work To Gain My Ends. Hatred, Rancor, And The Spirit Of Vengeance Are Useless Baggage To The Artist. His Road Is Difficult Enough For Him To Cleanse His Soul Of Everything Which Could Make It More So.

The Whole Arrangement Of My Picture Is Expressive. The Place Occupied By The Figures Or Objects, The Empty Spaces Around Them, The Proportions, Everything Plays A Part.

To Draw Is To Make An Idea Precise. Drawing Is The Precision Of Thought.

It Is With Color That You Render Light, Though You Must Also Feel This Light, Have It Within Yourself.

The Splitting Up Of Color [as Impressionists Did] Brought The Splitting Up Of Form And Contour . . . Everything Is Reduced To A Mere Sensation Of The Retina, But One Which Destroys All Tranquility Of Surface And Contour. Objects Are Differentiated Only By The Luminosity That Is Given Them.