The sound of colors is so definite that it would be hard to find anyone who would express bright yellow with bass notes or dark lake with treble.

The artist must train not only his eye but also his soul, so that it can weigh colours in its own scale and thus become a determinant in artistic creation.

Each color lives by its mysterious life.

All methods are sacred if they are internally necessary. All methods are sins if they are not justified by internal necessity.

An empty canvas, apparently really empty, that says nothing and is without significance – almost dull, in fact – in reality, is crammed with thousands of undertone tensions and full of expectancy. Slightly apprehensive lest it should be outraged.

The artist is the hand that, by touching this or that key, sets the soul vibrating automatically.

Every work of art is the child of its time, often it is the mother of our emotions.