I Don’t Believe In An Art That

I Don’t Believe In An Art That Is Not Born Out Of Man’s Need To Open His Heart.

It Would Be Quite Amusing To Preach A Bit To All Those People Who For Many Years Now Have Been Looking At Our Paintings And Either Laughed Or Shook Their Heads Reproachfully. They Do Not Believe That These Impressions, These Instant Sensations, Could Contain Even The Smallest Grain Of Sanity. If A Tree Is Red Or Blue, Or A Face Is Blue Or Green, They Are Sure That Is Insanity.

My Whole Life Has Been Spent Walking By The Side Of A Bottomless Chasm, Jumping From Stone To Stone. Sometimes I Try To Leave My Narrow Path And Join The Swirling Mainstream Of Life, But I Always Find Myself Drawn Inexorably Back Towards The Chasm's Edge, And There I Shall Walk Until The Day I Finally Fall Into The Abyss.

The Notes I Have Made Are Not A Diary In The Ordinary Sense, But Partly Lengthy Records Of My Spiritual Experiences, And Partly Poems In Prose.

Colors Live A Remarkable Life Of Their Own After They Have Been Applied To The Canvas.