My Curves Are Not Crazy.

I Have Simply Wished To Assert The Reasoned And Independent Feeling Of My Own Individuality Within A Total Knowledge Of Tradition.

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.

I Wouldn't Mind Turning Into A Vermilion Goldfish.

From The Moment I Held The Box Of Colors In My Hands, I Knew This Was My Life. I Threw Myself Into It Like A Beast That Plunges Towards The Thing It Loves.

...i Am Driven On By An Idea That I Really Only Grasp As It Grows With The Picture.