For Me, There Are Two Kinds Of

But When I Am Alone, I Do Not Have The Effrontery To Consider Myself An Artist At All, Not In The Grand Old Meaning Of The Word: Giotto, Titian, Rembrandt, Goya Were Great Painters. I Am Only A Public Clown-a Mountebank. I Have Understood My Time And Have Exploited The Imbecility, The Vanity, The Greed Of My Contemporaries. It Is A Bitter Confession, This Confession Of Mine, More Painful Than It May Seem. But At Least And At Last It Does Have The Merit Of Being Honest.

[in Developing Your Potential] ... I Don't Develop; I Am

Now There Is Fame! Of All - Hunger, Misery, The Incomprehension By The Public - Fame Is By Far The Worst. It Is The Castigation Of God By The Artist. It Is Sad. It Is True.

Colors, Like Features, Follow The Changes Of The Emotions.

Computers Are Stupid.