I Still Come Closest To Success With

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.

Everything Vanishes Round Me And Good Works Rise From Me Of Their Own Accord.

First Of All, The Art Of Living; Then As My Ideal Profession, Poetry And Philosophy, And As My Real Profession, Plastic Arts; In The Last Resort, For Lack Of Income, Illustrations.

From The Root, The Sap Rises Up Into The Artist, Flows Through Him, Flows To His Eye. Overwhelmed And Activated By The Force Of The Current, He Conveys His Vision Into His Work. And Yet, Standing At His Appointed Place As The Trunk Of The Tree, He Does Nothing Other Than Gather And Pass On What Rises From The Depths. He Neither Serves Nor Commands He Transmits. His Position Is Humble. And The Beauty At The Crown Is Not His Own; It Has Merely Passed Through Him.

Spatial Art Does Not Begin With A Poetic Mood Or Idea, But With Construction Of One Or More Figures, With The Harmonizing Of Several Colors And Tones, Or With The Devaluation Of Spatial Relationships And So On.