To die is as if one's eyes had been put out and one cannot see anything any more. Perhaps it is like being shut in a cellar. One is abandoned by all. They have slammed the door and are gone. One does not see anything and notices only the damp smell of putrefaction.

By painting colors and lines and forms seen in quickened mood I was seeking to make this mood vibrate as a phonograph does. This was the origin of the paintings in The Frieze of Life.

I painted the picture, and in the colors the rhythm of the music quivers. I painted the colors I saw.

For as long as I can remember I have suffered from a deep feeling of anxiety which I have tried to express in my art.

My breakthrough came very late in life, really only starting when I was 50...I had the strength for new deeds and ideas.

The camera will never compete with the brush and the palette, until such time as photographs can be taken in Heaven or Hell.

Without anxiety and illness I would have been like a ship without a rudder.