Without Fear And Disease, My Life Would

I Have Been Given A Unique Role To Play On This Earth: Given To Me By A Life Filled With Sickness, Ill-starred Circumstances And My Profession As An Artist. It Is A Life That Contains Nothing That Resembles Happiness, And Moreover Does Not Even Desire Happiness.

This Kind Of Painting With Its Large Frames Is A Bourgeois Drawing-room Art. It Is An Art Dealer's Art-and That Came In After The Civil Wars Following The French Revolution.

Without Fear And Disease, My Life Would Be Like A Boat Without Oars.

Any Number Of Holier-than-thou Honorable Realists Walk Around In The Belief That They Have Accomplished Something, Simply Because They Tell You For The Hundredth Time That A Field Is Green And A Red-painted House Is Painted Red.

Painting Picture By Picture, I Followed The Impressions My Eye Took In At Heightened Moments. I Painted Only Memories, Adding Nothing, No Details That I Did Not See. Hence The Simplicity Of The Paintings, Their Emptiness.