Nothing is absolute. Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away.
Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic.
I paint flowers so they will not die.
I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best.
I love you more than my own skin.
I love you more than my own skin and even though you don’t love me the same way, you love me anyways, don’t you? And if you don’t, I’ll always have the hope that you do, and i’m satisfied with that. Love me a little. I adore you.
I never paint dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality.
People in general are scared to death of the war and all the exhibitions have been a failure, because the rich bitches don't want to buy anything.
Surrealism is the magical surprise of finding a lion in a wardrobe, where you were 'sure' of finding shirts.
Can one invent verbs? I want to tell you one: I sky you, so my wings extend so large to love you without measure.
Your word travels the entirety of space and reaches my cells which are my stars then goes to yours which are my light.
Everyone's opinions about things change over time. Nothing is constant. Everything changes. And to hold onto some dogged idea forever is a little rigid and maybe naive.
I wanted to tell you that my whole being opened for you. Since I fell in love with you everything is transformed and is full of beauty... love is like an aroma, like a current, like rain.
I must fight with all my strength so that the little positive things that my health allows me to do might be pointed toward helping the revolution. The only real reason for living.
It's not possible to present an accurate picture of our culture without all the voices of the people in the culture. So at the emerging level, you can't have a good survey art show without women and artists of color.
Sexism and racism are parallel problems. You can compare them in some ways, but they're not at all the same. But they're both symptoms inside the white male power structure.
The industrial part of Detroit is really the most interesting side, otherwise it's like the rest of the United States, ugly and stupid.
This upper class is disgusting and I'm furious at all these rich people here, having seen thousands of people in abject squalor.
I tried to drown my sorrows but the bastards learned how to swim.
I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling.
Can verbs be made up? I'll tell you one. I heaven you, so my wings will open wide to love you boundlessly.
Mankind owns its destiny, and its destiny is the earth. We are destroying it until we have no destiny.
I paint my own reality.
I paint my own reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.
The most important thing for everyone in Gringolandia is to have ambition and become 'somebody,' and frankly, I don't have the least ambition to become anybody.
I find that Americans completely lack sensibility and good taste. They are boring, and they all have faces like unbaked rolls.
I am my own muse, the subject I know best.
I am my own muse. I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to know better.
My painting carries with it the message of pain.
My paintings are well-painted, not nimbly but patiently. My painting contains in it the message of pain. I think that at least a few people are interested in it. It's not revolutionary. Why keep wishing for it to be belligerent? I can't. Painting completed my life. I lost three children and a series of other things that would have fulfilled my horrible life. My painting took the place of all of this. I think work is the best.
Really, I do not know whether my paintings are surrealist or not, but I do know that they are the frankest expression of myself.
There have been two great accidents in my life. One was the trolley, and the other was Diego. Diego was by far the worst.
I was a child who went about in a world of colors... My friends, my companions, became women slowly; I became old in instants.
I leave you my portrait so that you will have my presence all the days and nights that I am away from you.