When A Picture Isn't Realized, You Pitch

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.

An Optical Impression Is Produced On Our Organs Of Sight Which Makes Us Classify As Light, Half-tone Or Quartertone, The Surfaces Represented By Colour Sensations. So That Light Does Not Exist For The Painter.

An Art Which Isn't Based On Feeling Isn't An Art At All.

Everything Vanishes, Falls Apart, Doesn't It? Nature Is Always The Same But Nothing In Her That Appears To Us Lasts. Our Art Must Render The Thrill Of Her Permanence, Along With Her Elements, The Appearance Of All Her Changes. It Must Give Us A Taste Of Her Eternity.

Personally I Would Like To Have Pupils, A Studio, Pass On My Love To Them, Work With Them, Without Teaching Them Anything.. ..a Convent, A Monastery, A Phalanstery Of Painting Where One Could Train Together.. ..but No Programme, No Instruction In Painting.. ..drawing Is Still Alright, It Doesn't Count, But Painting - The Way To Learn Is To Look At The Masters, Above All At Nature, And To Watch Other People Painting.