There is a strange kind of tragic enigma associated with the problem of racism. No one, or almost no one, wishes to see themselves as racist; still racism persists, real and tenacious.
On pavements and the bark of trees I have found whole worlds.
The dimension that counts for the creative person is the space he creates within himself. This inner space is closer to the infinite than the other, and it is the privilege of the balanced mind. . . and the search for an equilibrium is essential - to be as aware of inner space as he is of outer space.
We all feel a separateness; we wish that a drop of water would soften our ego; the world needs a common conscience: agreement. . . we must concentrate outside ourselves.
The search for an equilibrium is essential for the artist, to be as aware of inner space as he is of outer space.
I am accused often of too much experimentation. . , but what else should I do when all other factors of man are in the same condition. I thrust forward into space as science and the rest do.
I believe that painting should come through the avenues of meditation rather than the canals of action.
I've learned that nobody's perfect, and I don't expect myself to be perfect anymore.
Better be unromantic than thoroughly used and still poor.
When society is made up of men who know no interior solitude it can no longer be held together by love: and consequently it is held together by a violent and abusive authority. But when men are violently deprived of the solitude and freedom which are their due, then society in which they live becomes putrid, it festers with servility, resentment and hate.
The world went mad and used us as an excuse.