Art is foremost a state of mind, and only secondarily a problem of form.
My name is Marc, my emotional life is sensitive and my purse is empty, but they say I have talent.
What a genius, that Picasso. It is a pity he doesn't paint.
Will God or someone give me the power to breathe my sigh into my canvases, the sigh of prayer and sadness, the prayer of salvation, of rebirth?
Art must be an expression of love or it is nothing.
Work isn't to make money; you work to justify life.