Everything vanishes around me, and works are born as if out of the void. Ripe, graphic fruits fall off. My hand has become the obedient instrument of a remote will.

Democracy with its semi-civilization sincerely cherishes junk. The artists power should be spiritual. But the power of the majority is material. When these worlds meet occasionally, it is pure coincidence.

Color and I are one. I am a painter.

Make chance essential.

Art doesn't reflect what we see; it makes us see.

Nothing can be rushed. It must grow, it should grow of itself, and if the time ever comes for that work, then so much the better!

Each energy calls for its complementary energy to achieve self-contained stability based on the play of energies.