Tell Me, Do You Think I'm Going

If I Were Called Upon To Define Briefly The Word Art, I Should Call It The Reproduction Of What The Senses Preceive In Nature, Seen Through The Veil Of The Soul.

To Paint Is Not To Copy The Object Slavishly, It Is To Grasp A Harmony Among Many Relationships.

The Sun Penetrates Me Soundlessly Like A Distant Friend That Stirs Up My Laziness, Fertilizes It. We Bring Forth Life.

One Had To Immerse Oneself In One's Surroundings And Intensely Study Nature Or One's Subject To Understand How To Recreate It.

It Is Necessary To Introduce Light Vibrations, Represented By Reds And Yellows, And A Sufficient Amount Of Blues, To Obtain An Airy Feeling.