Impressionism is the newspaper of the soul.
There are always flowers for those who want to see them.
After a half-century of hard work and reflection the wall is still there.
Truth and reality in art do not arise until you no longer understand what you are doing and are capable of but nevertheless sense a power that grows in proportion to your resistance.
A picture must possess a real power to generate light and for a long time now I've been conscious of expressing myself through light or rather in light.
I have simply wished to assert the reasoned and independent feeling of my own individuality within a total knowledge of tradition.
The portrait is one of the most curious art forms. It demands special qualities in the artist, and an almost total kinship with the model.
Creativity takes courage.
Cezanne, you see, is a sort of God of painting.
I have always tried to hide my own efforts and wished my works to have the lightness and joyousness of a springtime which never lets anyone suspect the labours it cost.
I do not literally paint that table, but the emotion it produces upon me.
I am unable to make any distinction between the feeling I get from life and the way I translate that feeling into painting.
I don't paint things. I only paint the difference between things.
An artist must possess Nature. He must identify himself with her rhythm, by efforts that will prepare the mastery which will later enable him to express himself in his own language.
A young painter who cannot liberate himself from the influence of past generations is digging his own grave.
I wouldn't mind turning into a vermilion goldfish.
Drawing is like making an expressive gesture with the advantage of permanence.
What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter.
Ihave always sought to be understood and, while I was taken to task by critics or colleagues, I thought they were right, assuming I had not been clear enough to be understood. This assumption allowed me to work my whole life without hatred and even without bitterness toward criticism, regardless of its source. I counted solely on the clarity of expression of my work to gain my ends. Hatred, rancor, and the spirit of vengeance are useless baggage to the artist. His road is difficult enough for him to cleanse his soul of everything which could make it more so.