A line is a dot that went for a walk.
Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible.
Nature is garrulous to the point of confusion, let the artist be truly taciturn.
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.
The painter should not paint what he sees, but what will be seen.
When looking at any significant work of art, remember that a more significant one probably has had to be sacrificed.
To emphasize only the beautiful seems to me to be like a mathematical system that only concerns itself with positive numbers.
The worst state of affairs is when science begins to concern itself with art.
The art of mastering life is the prerequisite for all further forms of expression, whether they are paintings, sculptures, tragedies, or musical compositions.
Color possesses me. I don't have to pursue it. It will possess me always, I know it. That is the meaning of this happy hour: Color and I are one. I am a painter.
One does not lash hat lies at a distance. The foibles that we ridicule must at least be a little bit our own. Only then will the work be a part of our own flesh. The garden must be weeded.
A single day is enough to make us a little larger or, another time, a little smaller.
One eye sees, the other feels.
The more horrifying the world becomes, the more art becomes abstract.
I still come closest to success with drawing. When I use color the results are dubious, for these painfully gained experiences bear less fruit.
It is a great difficulty and a great necessity to have to start with the smallest.