It's with my brush that I make love.
A painter who has the feel of breasts and buttocks is saved.
The only reward one should offer an artist is to buy his work.
I want a red to be sonorous, to sound like a bell. If it doesn't turn out that way, I add more reds and other colors until I get it.
I consider that women who are authors, lawyers, and politicians are monsters.
With all their damned talk of modern painting, I've been forty years discovering that the queen of all colours is black!
There isn't a single person or landscape or subject which doesn't possess some interest, although it may not be immediately apparent. When a painter discovers this hidden treasure, other people are immediately struck by its beauty.
To express himself well, the artist should be hidden. The trouble is that if an artist knows he has genius, he's done for. The only salvation is to work like a labourer, and not have delusions of grandeur.
What seems most significant to me about our movement is that we have freed painting from the importance of the subject. I am at liberty to paint flowers and call them flowers, without their needing to tell a story.
The simplest subjects are the immortal ones.
It is after you have lost your teeth that you can afford to buy steaks.
Be a good craftsman; it won't stop you from being a genius.
There are quite enough unpleasant things in life without the need to manufacture more.
The ideas come afterwards, when the picture is finished.
To be an artist you must learn the laws of nature.
You don't talk about paintings, you look at them.
I look at a nude. There are myriads of tiny tints. I must find the ones that will make the flesh on my canvas live and quiver.
I never think I have finished a nude until I think I could pinch it.
You've got to be a fool to want to stop the march of time.
I arrange my subject as I want it, then I go ahead and paint it, like a child.
Why should beauty be suspect?
The modern architect is, generally speaking, art's greatest enemy.
People love to be nice, but you must give them the chance.
What is to be done about these literary people, who will never understand that painting is a craft and that the material side comes first? The ideas come afterwards, when the picture is finished.
We are in a period of searchers rather than of creators.
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