Even In Front Of Nature One Must

One Must Have A High Opinion Of A Work Of Art - Not The Work One Is Creating At The Moment, But Of That Which One Desires To Achieve One Day. Without This It Is Not Worthwhile Working.

Nothing In Art Should Seem Accidental, Not Even Movement

A Picture Is First Of All A Product Of The Artist's Imagination, It Must Never Be A Copy.

And Even This Heart Of Mine Has Something Artificial. The Dancers Have Sewn It Into A Bag Of Pink Satin, Pink Satin Slightly Faded, Like Their Dancing Shoes.

Art Critic! Is That A Profession? When I Think We Are Stupid Enough, We Painters, To Solicit Those People's Compliments And To Put Ourselves Into Their Hands! What Shame! Should We Even Accept That They Talk About Our Work?