If Drawing Belongs To The

Art Should Be Something Like A Good Armchair In Which To Rest From Physical Fatigue.

Time Extracts Various Values From A Painter's Work. When These Values Are Exhausted The Pictures Are Forgotten, And The More A Picture Has To Give, The Greater It Is.

What Matters Most To Me? To Work With My Model Until I Have It Enough In Me To Be Able To Improvise, To Let My Hand Run Free.

I Have Always Sought To Be Understood And, While I Was Taken To Task By Critics Or Colleagues, I Thought They Were Right, Assuming I Had Not Been Clear Enough To Be Understood. This Assumption Allowed Me To Work My Whole Life Without Hatred And Even Without Bitterness Toward Criticism, Regardless Of Its Source. I Counted Solely On The Clarity Of Expression Of My Work To Gain My Ends. Hatred, Rancor, And The Spirit Of Vengeance Are Useless Baggage To The Artist. His Road Is Difficult Enough For Him To Cleanse His Soul Of Everything Which Could Make It More So.

My Choice Of Colors Does Not Rest On Any Scientific Theory; It Is Based On Observation, On Feeling, On The Experience Of My Sensibility. Inspired By Certain Pages Of Delacroix, An Artist Like Signac Is Preoccupied With Complementary Colors, And The Theoretical Knowledge Of Them Will Lead Him To Use A Certain Tone In A Certain Place. But I Simply Try To Put Down Colors Which Render My Sensation.