The chief function of color should be to serve expression as well as possible.
What I fear and desire most in this world is passion. I fear it because it promises to be spontaneous, out of my control, unnamed, beyond my reasonable self. I desire it because passion has color, like the landscape before me. It is not pale. It is not neutral. It reveals the backside of the heart.
Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.
It is the eye of ignorance that assigns a fixed and unchangeable color to every object; beware of this stumbling block.
People's hearts color the heart of the earth and the earth colors the hearts of people.
Color is like music. The palette is an instrument that can be orchestrated to build form.
Shut your eyes, wait, think of nothing. Now, open them ... one sees nothing but a great coloured undulation. What then? An irradiation and glory of colour. This is what a picture should give us ... an abyss in which the eye is lost, a secret germination, a coloured state of grace ... loose conciousness. Descend with the painter into the dim tangled roots of things, and rise again from them in colours, be steeped in the light of them.
Sometimes I imagine colors as if they were living ideas, being of pure reason with which to communicate. Nature is not on the surface, it is deep down.
Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches.
I always loved fish for the colors and birds for the plumage. In the same way, I loved those women of the cabaret. They were birds of paradise.
Painting is something that takes place among the colors.
It can be a fascinating game, noticing how any person with vitality and vigor will have a little splash of red in a costume, in a room, or in a garden.
In our life there is a single color, as on an artist's palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.
If one says “Red” (the name of a color) and there are 50 people listening, it can be expected that there will be 50 reds in their minds. And one can be sure that all these reds will be very different.
If you're quiet, you're not living. You've got to be noisy and colorful and lively.
I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love.
How beautiful the leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.
I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn't say any other way - things I had no words for.
There are only 3 colors, 10 digits, and 7 notes; its what we do with them that's important.
One sits more comfortably on a colour that one likes.
A thimbleful of red is redder than a bucketful.
Color is only beautiful when it means something.
Color possesses me. I don't have to pursue it. It will possess me always, I know it. That is the meaning of this happy hour: Color and I are one. I am a painter.
Color helps to express light, not the physical phenomenon, but the only light that really exists, that in the artist's brain.
Color in certain places has the great value of making the outlines and structural planes seem more energetic.
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