Art does not reproduce the visible rather, it makes visible.
The beautiful, which is perhaps inseparable from art, is not after all tied to the subject, but to the pictorial representation. In this way and in no other does art overcome the ugly without avoiding it.
Beauty is as relative as light and dark. Thus, there exists no beautiful woman, none at all, because you are never certain that a still far more beautiful woman will not appear and completely shame the supposed beauty of the first.
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.
A single day is enough to make us a little larger or, another time, a little smaller.
A line is a dot that went for a walk.
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.
One eye sees, the other feels.
Art does not reproduce the visible; it makes visible.
Art does not reproduce what we see. It makes us see.
Art does not reproduce what is visible, it makes things visible.
Color has got me. I no longer need to chase after it. It has got me for ever. I know it. That is the meaning of this happy hour.
The art of mastering life is the prerequisite for all further forms of expression, whether they are paintings, sculptures, tragedies, or musical compositions.
The main thing now is not to paint precociously but to be, or at least become, an individual. The art of mastering life is the prerequisite for all further forms of expression, whether they are paintings, sculptures, tragedies, or musical compositions.
Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see.