The Artist Does Not Draw What He

The Air We See In The Paintings Of The Old Masters Is Never The Air We Breathe.

Hitherto The Nude Has Always Been Represented In Poses Which Presuppose An Audience. But My Women Are Simple, Honest Creatures Who Are Concerned With Nothing Beyond Their Physical Occupations... It Is As If You Were Looking Through A Keyhole.

If I Were In The Government I Would Have A Brigade Of Policemen Assigned To Keeping An Eye On People Who Paint Landscapes Outdoors. Oh, I Wouldn't Want Anyone Killed. I'd Be Satisfied With Just A Little Buckshot To Begin With.

What A Horrible Thing Yellow Is.

I Feel As A Horse Must Feel When The Beautiful Cup Is Given To The Jockey.