In New York In 1915 I Bought

Society Takes What It Wants. The Artist Himself Does Not Count, Because There Is No Actual Existence For The Work Of Art. The Work Of Art Is Always Based On The Two Poles Of The Onlooker And The Maker, And The Spark That Comes From The Bipolar Action Gives Birth To Something - Like Electricity. But The Onlooker Has The Last Word, And It Is Always Posterity That Makes The Masterpiece. The Artist Should Not Concern Himself With This, Because It Has Nothing To Do With Him.

All This Twaddle, The Existence Of God, Atheism, Determinism, Liberation, Societies, Death, Etc., Are Pieces Of A Chess Game Called Language, And They Are Amusing Only If One Does Not Preoccupy Oneself With 'winning Or Losing This Game Of Chess.

Since The Tubes Of Paint Used By The Artist Are Manufactured And Ready Made Products We Must Conclude That All The Paintings In The World Are 'readymades Aided' And Also Works Of Assemblage.

I Thought To Discourage Aesthetics... I Threw The Bottlerack And The Urinal In Their Faces And Now They Admire Them For Their Aesthetic Beauty.

I Consider Painting As A Means Of Expression, Not As A Goal.