There Is A Logic Of Colors, And

I Am More A Friend Of Art Than A Producer Of Painting.

Literature Expresses Itself By Abstractions, Whereas Painting, By Means Of Drawing And Colour, Gives Concrete Shape To Sensations And Perceptions.

I Lack The Magnificent Richness Of Color That Animates Nature.

My Nervous System Is Enfeebled, Only Work In Oils Can Sustain Me.

Surely, A Single Bunch Of Carrots Painted Naively, Just As We Personally See It, Is Worth All The Endless Banalities Of The Schools, All Those Dreary Pictures Concocted Out Of Tobacco Juice According To Time-honored Formulas?