Paul Gauguin Quotes

Color exists in itself, possessing its own beauty.

Black is not a color.

When van Gogh paints sunflowers, he reveals, or achieves, the vivid relation between himself, as man, and the sunflower, as sunflower, at that quick moment of time. His painting does not represent the sunflower itself. We shall never know what the sunflower itself is. And the camera will visualize the sunflower far more perfectly than van Gogh can.

Purer colors... have in themselves, independently of the objects they serve to express, a significant action on the feelings of those who look at them.

You learned people and artists have, no doubt, all sorts of superior things in your heads; but you're human beings like the rest of us, and we, too, have our dreams and fancies.

Color has got me. I no longer need to chase after it. It has got me for ever. I know it. That is the meaning of this happy hour.

Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.

As an artist I would like to eliminate the symbolic pretty much, for black is interesting not as a color but as a non-color and as the absence of color.

Color which, like music, is a matter of vibrations, reaches what is most general and therefore most indefinable in nature: its inner power.

Whiteness is the color of death, you know, not black. Wetness is life, the breeder and shaper of life. In the beginning the sun was black. So all light was absorbed before it had a chance to return. And our dreams, then, were empty.

When I recollect her, I see a long list of colors, but it's the three in which I saw her in the flesh that resonate the most. Sometimes I manage to float far above those three moments. I hang suspended, until a septic truth bleeds toward clarity. That's when I see them formulate: THE COLORS RED: [rectangle] WHITE: [circle] BLACK: [swastika] They fall on top of each other. The scribbled signature black, onto the blinding global white, onto the thick soupy red.

Color is the place where our brain and the universe meet.

You are the poet, you walk inside my dreams.

Color is all. When color is right, form is right. Color is everything, color is vibration like music; everything is vibration.

A poet should leave traces of his passage, not proofs. Traces alone engender dreams.

Colors speak all languages.

Drawing is of the Spirit and color of the Senses.

Color cannot stand alone.

Poetry, I have discovered, is always unexpected and always as faithful and honest as dreams.

It seemed to me that it was possible to translate light, forms, and character using nothing but color, without recourse to values.

I dream in fire but work in clay.

Color, even more than drawing, is a means of liberation.

Reality has become so intolerable, she said, so bleak, that all I can paint now are the colors of my dreams.

Colors are beautiful when they are significant.