The ultimate reason of art does not lie in the reproduction of the visible, but in that of the invisible.

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At the bottom, of the ocean, I search for a carpet of snow. At the mountaintop, I search for the great abysm. At the centre of the earth, I search for a cloud.

This constant quest is the combination of unity and contrast, the harmony of mind and body, and the agreement of soul and spirituality.

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The interiority is the secret of light. The silence is the secret of interiority. The secret is the interiority of light.

That may be the spark that opens wide the door to the universe of the soul or to the cosmos of the mind.

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Art purely and simply asks but for one thing: the artist's life.

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The artist is at the service of Art; Art is at the service of Man.

The artist must be the slave of Art and not that of Man.

…But isn't being the slave of Art a mere blessing from God?

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The work of art is a gift; the artist is the one who GIVES by offering himself to humanity according to the power of his heart, of his soul, and of his spirituality. By giving, he exists. And the more he gives, the more he realizes himself through humanity and becomes, therefore, useful to Man. Thence, he can surrender his soul in peace for he has achieved what his conscience dictated to him.

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Art doubtlessly makes us unearth more qualities and nuances than we can naturally perceive in things. It expands our perception (Henri Bergson).

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I acknowledge that self-denial is a quintessential quality. And I feel the quality of a work of art according to this coefficient of self-denial.

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Mercantilism and Art never get on well together; and if they do, it is at the expense of Art.

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I am like a leaf in a tree; this leaf does not have the pride to oust and swallow up the tree which nourishes it. It, however, possesses the conceit of playing its role of leaf. My importance is that of being one among others and that those others are both unity and multiplicity among themselves.

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One judges of an artist by the choice of his refusals (Paul Valéry).

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Text Taken Down from the façade of a Roman Church in Normandy:

That who sees himself well gazes at himself well,

That who gazes at himself well knows himself well,

That who knows himself well sees himself well.