I Am More A Friend Of Art

Perhaps I Was Born Too Early. I Was More The Painter Of Your Generation Than Of Mine.

Shut Your Eyes, Wait, Think Of Nothing. Now, Open Them ... One Sees Nothing But A Great Coloured Undulation. What Then? An Irradiation And Glory Of Colour. This Is What A Picture Should Give Us ... An Abyss In Which The Eye Is Lost, A Secret Germination, A Coloured State Of Grace ... Loose Conciousness. Descend With The Painter Into The Dim Tangled Roots Of Things, And Rise Again From Them In Colours, Be Steeped In The Light Of Them.

Art First Of All Is Optical. That's Where The Material Of Our Art Is: In What Our Eyes Think.

When I Start Thinking, All Is Lost.

All The Theories Mess You Up Inside.