I adore the theater and I am a painter. I think the two are made for a marriage of love. I will give all my soul to prove this once more.

When I am finishing a picture, I hold some God-made object up to it - a rock, a flower, the branch of a tree or my hand - as a final test. If the painting stands up beside a thing man cannot make, the painting is authentic. If there's a clash between the two, it's bad art.

All colors are the friends of their neighbours and the lovers of their opposites.

I work in whatever medium likes me at the moment.

If a symbol should be discovered in a painting of mine, it was not my intention. It is a result I did not seek. It is something that may be found afterwards, and which can be interpreted according to taste.

The dignity of the artist lies in his duty of keeping awake the sense of wonder in the world. In this long vigil he often has to vary his methods of stimulation; but in this long vigil he is also himself striving against a continual tendency to sleep.

The habit of ignoring Nature is deeply implanted in our times. This attitude reminds me of people who never look you in the eye; I find them disturbing and always have to look away.

In our life there is a single color, as on an artist's palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.

One fine day (but all days are fine!) as my mother was putting the bread in the oven, I went up to her and taking her by her flour-smeared elbow I said to her, Mama I want to be a painter.

I am out to introduce a psychic shock into my painting, one that is always motivated by pictorial reasoning: that is to say, a fourth dimension.

Only love interests me, and I am only in contact with things that revolve around love.

My name is Marc, my emotional life is sensitive and my purse is empty, but they say I have talent.