Taste! It doesn't exist. An artist makes beautiful things without being aware of it.
He once said that he wished to be famous, but unknown.
You have to have a high conception, not of what you are doing, but of what you may do one day: without that, there's no point in working.
Art' is the same word as 'artifice,' that is to say, something deceitful. It must succeed in giving the impression of nature by false means.
My art, what do you want to say about it? Do you think you can explain the merits of a picture to those who do not see them? . . . I can find the best and clearest words to explain my meaning, and I have spoken to the most intelligent people about art, and they have not understood; but among people who understand, words are not necessary, you say humph, he, ha and everything has been said.
Great patience is called for on the hard path that I have entered on.
Only two of my personalities are schizophrenic, but one of them is paranoid and the other one is out to get him. Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things.
No art is less spontaneous than mine. What I do is the result of reflection and the study of the great masters.
Muses work all day long and then at night get together and dance.
If I could have had my own way, I would have confined myself to black and white.
Drawing is not the same as form, it is a way of seeing form.
Daylight is too easy. What I want is difficult - the atmosphere of lamps and moonlight.
Hitherto the nude has always been represented in poses which presuppose an audience. But my women are simple, honest creatures who are concerned with nothing beyond their physical occupations... it is as if you were looking through a keyhole.
I should like to be famous and unknown.
What use is my mind? Granted that it enables me to hail a bus and to pay my fare. But once I am inside my studio, what use is my mind? I have my model, my pencil, my paints. My mind doesn't interest me.
It seems to me that today if the artist wishes to be serious... he must once more sink himself in solitude.
The frame is the reward of the artist.
Drawing is the artist's most direct and spontaneous expression, a species of writing: it reveals, better than does painting, his true personality.
Make a drawing. Start it all over again, trace it. Start it and trace it again.
People call me the painter of dancers, but I really wish to capture movement itself.
Instantaneity is photography.
The Dance instills in you something that sets you apart. Something heroic and remote.
Even in front of nature one must compose.
So that's the telephone? They ring, and you run.
Art is vice. One does not wed it, one rapes it.
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