Optics, Developing In Us Through

What Is One To Think Of Those Fools Who Tell One That The Artist Is Always Subordinate To Nature? Art Is A Harmony Parallel With Nature.

The Landscape Becomes Human, Becomes A Thinking, Living Being Within Me. I Become One With My Picture...we Merge In An Iridescent Chaos.

My Nervous System Is Enfeebled, Only Work In Oils Can Sustain Me.

Literature Expresses Itself By Abstractions, Whereas Painting, By Means Of Drawing And Colour, Gives Concrete Shape To Sensations And Perceptions.

Time And Reflection... Modify, Little By Little, Our Vision, And At Last Comprehension Comes To Us.