If I were called upon to define briefly the word Art, I should call it the reproduction of what the senses preceive in nature, seen through the veil of the soul.
Art first of all is optical. That’s where the material of our art is: in what our eyes think.
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.
With a painter’s temperament, all that’s needed are the means of expression sufficient to be intelligible to the wide public.
An optical impression is produced on our organs of sight which makes us classify as light, half-tone or quartertone, the surfaces represented by colour sensations. So that light does not exist for the painter.
It is not about painting life, it is about making painting alive.
When the color achieves richness, the form attains its fullness also.
To be sure an artist wishes to raise his standard intellectually as much as possible, but the man must remain in obscurity. Pleasure must be found in the studying.
The Louvre is a good book to consult, but it must only be an intermediary. The real and immense study that must be taken up is the manifold picture of nature.
It is necessary to introduce light vibrations, represented by reds and yellows, and a sufficient amount of blues, to obtain an airy feeling.
Studying the model and realizing it is sometimes very slow in coming for the artist.
Treat nature by the cylinder, the sphere, the cone, everything in proper perspective so that each side of an object or a plane is directed towards a central point.
I advance all of my canvas at one time.
The clear French landscape is as pure as a verse of Racine.
Is it the factitious and the conventional that most surely succeed on earth and in the course of life?
Is art really the priesthood that demands the pure in heart who belong to it wholly?
A thousand painters ought to be killed yearly. Say what you like: I’m every inch a painter.
An art which isn’t based on feeling isn’t an art at all.
I must be more sensible and realize that at my age, illusions are hardly permitted and they will always destroy me.
Keep good company – that is, go to the Louvre.