Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.
Lots of people will protest that it's quite unreal and that I'm out of my mind, but that's just too bad
Colors pursue me like a constant worry. They even worry me in my sleep.
No, I'm not a great painter. Neither am I a great poet.
I can only draw what I see.
The effect of sincerity is to give one's work the character of a protest. The painter, being concerned only with conveying his impression, simply seeks to be himself and no one else.