A Meter Of Green Is Greener Than

I'd Like To Write The Way I Do My Paintings, That Is, As Fantasy Takes Me, As The Moon Dictates.

Sometimes People Accuse Me Of Being Incomprehensible Only Because They Look For An Explicative Side To My Pictures Which Is Not There.

Slyly, Banteringly, But Also Overbearingly, The Critic - The One Who Does Not Swallow Anything Whole, Who Waits Until Posterity Has Consecrated It Before... Howling - Is Among Those Who Howl Their Admiration The Way They Howl Their Insults: Don't Be Afraid, Don't Tremble - The Beast Doesn't Have Any Nails Or Teeth, Or Even Brain: It Is Stuffed.

By The Combination Of Lines And Colors, Under The Pretext Of Some Motif Taken From Nature, I Create Symphonies And Harmonies That Represent Nothing Absolutely Real In The Ordinary Sense Of The Word But Are Intended To Give Rise To Thoughts As Music Does.

Why Work? The Gods Are There To Lavish Upon The Faithful The Good Gifts Of Nature.