Claude Monet Quotations | Page 2

One is too taken up with all that one sees and hears in Paris, however strong one is, and what I do here [in Etretat] will at least have the merit of being unlike anyone else, at least I believe so, because it will simply be the expression of what I, and only I, have felt.

I'm knocked out, I've never felt so physically and mentally exhausted, I'm quite stupid with it and long only for bed; but I am happy...

I'm getting so slow at my work it makes me despair, but... I'm increasingly obsessed by the need to render what I experience, and I'm praying that I'll have a few more good years left to me...

Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment. To such an extent indeed that one day, finding myself at the deathbed of a woman who had been and still was very dear to me, I caught myself in the act of focusing on her temples and automatically analyzing the succession of appropriately graded colors which death was imposing on her motionless face.

Perhaps it's true that I'm very hard on myself, but that's better than exhibiting mediocre work... too few were satisfactory enough to trouble the public with.

Canvases between 8 centimetres and 1 metre are priced around 25,000 francs. In the past I used to sell them from between 50 to 100 francs at the most. I have to say... that I feel somewhat embarrassed at this admission.

It seems to me that when I see nature I see it ready-made, completely written - but then, try to do it!

I see less and less... I need to avoid lateral light, which darkens my colors. Nevertheless, I always paint at the times of day most propitious for me, as long as my paint tubes and brushes are not mixed up... I will paint almost blind, as Beethoven composed completely deaf.

the more I live, the more I regret how little i know

I would advise young artists to paint as they can, as long as they can, without being afraid of painting badly.

It took me time to understand my water lilies. I had planted them for the pleasure of it; I grew them without ever thinking of painting them.

The richness I achieve comes from nature, the source of my inspiration.

One day Boudin said to me, 'Learn to draw well and appreciate the sea, the light, the blue sky.' I took his advice.

I'm very happy, very delighted. I'm setting to like a fighting cockerel, for I'm surrounded here by all that I love.

I'm enjoying the most perfect tranquillity, free from all worries, and in consequence would like to stay this way forever, in a peaceful corner of the countryside like this.

Pictures aren't made out of doctrines. Since the appearance of impressionism, the official salons, which used to be brown, have become blue, green, and red...But peppermint or chocolate, they are still confections.

I can only draw what I see.

I'm working hard with more determination than ever. My success at the Salon led to my selling several paintings and since your absence I have made 800 francs; I hope, when I have contracts with more dealers, it will be better still.

By the single example of this painter devoted to his art with such independence, my destiny as a painter opened out to me.

What I need most of all is color, always, always.

These landscapes of water and reflection have become an obsession.

Impressionism is only direct sensation. All great painters were less or more impressionists. It is mainly a question of instinct, and much simpler than [John Singer] Sargent thinks.

I sometimes feel ashamed that I am devoting myself to artistic pursuits while so many of our people are suffering and dying for us. It's true that fretting never did any good.

When I work I forget all the rest.

The point is to know how to use the colours, the choice of which is, when all's said and done, a matter of habit.

While adding the finishing touches to a painting might appear insignificant, it is much harder to do than one might suppose...

All of a sudden I had the revelation of how enchanting my pond was.

I'm continuing to work hard, not without periods of discouragement, but my strength comes back again.

I've done what I could as a painter and that seems to me to be sufficient. I don't want to be compared to the great masters of the past, and my painting is open to criticism; that's enough.

I haven't yet managed to capture the colour of this landscape; there are moments when I'm appalled at the colours I'm having to use, I'm afraid what I'm doing is just dreadful and yet I really am understating it; the light is simply terrifying.

Nothing in the whole world is of interest to me but my painting and my flowers.

Zaandam has enough to paint for a lifetime.

When it is dark, it seems to me as if I were dying, and I can't think any more.

I'm in fine fettle and fired with a desire to paint.

Colors pursue me like a constant worry. They even worry me in my sleep.

I'm not performing miracles, I'm using up and wasting a lot of paint...

I waited for the idea to consolidate, for the grouping and composition of themes to settle themselves in my brain.

Now I really feel the landscape, I can be bold and include every tone of blue and pink: it's enchanting, it's delicious.

I haven't many years left ahead of me and I must devote all my time to painting, in the hope of achieving something worthwhile in the end, something if possible that will satisfy me.

Critic asks: 'And what, sir, is the subject matter of that painting?' - 'The subject matter, my dear good fellow, is the light.

My only desire is an intimate infusion with nature, and the only fate I wish is to have worked and lived in harmony with her laws.

My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece

My aim is to give you only the things with which I am completely satisfied, even if it means asking you a little more [time] for them... for if I were to do otherwise I'd turn into a mere painting machine and you would be landed with a pile of incomplete work which would put off the most enthusiastic of art collectors...

I'm never finished with my paintings; the further I get, the more I seek the impossible and the more powerless I feel.

I am good at only two things, and those are gardening and painting.

I had so much fire in me and so many plans...

My heart is forever in Giverny.

Everything changes, even stone.

I would like to paint the way a bird sings.

It was at home I learned the little I know. Schools always appeared to me like a prison, and never could I make up my mind to stay there, not even for four hours a day, when the sunshine was inviting, the sea smooth, and when it was joy to run about the cliffs in the free air, or to paddle in the water.

I didn't become an impressionist. As long as I can remember I always have been one.

It is better to have done something than to have been someone.

It is a tragedy that we live in a world where physical courage is so common, and moral courage is so rare.

All I did was to look at what the universe showed me, to let my brush bear witness to it.

It's on the strength of observation and reflection that one finds a way. So we must dig and delve unceasingly.

When you go out to paint, try to forget what objects you have before you - a tree, house, a field....Merely think, here is a little square of blue, here an oblong of pink, here a streak of yellow, and paint it just as it looks to you, the exact color and shape, until it gives your own naive impression of the scene before you.

I want the unobtainable. Other artists paint a bridge, a house, a boat, and that's the end. They are finished. I want to paint the air which surrounds the bridge, the house, the boat, the beauty of the air in which these objects are located, and that is nothing short of impossible.

Light is the most important person in the picture.

Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.

I must have flowers, always, and always.

To see we must forget the name of the thing we are looking at.

The light constantly changes, and that alters the atmosphere and beauty of things every minute.

Paint what you really see, not what you think you ought to see; not the object isolated as in a test tube, but the object enveloped in sunlight and atmosphere, with the blue dome of Heaven reflected in the shadows.

The effect of sincerity is to give one's work the character of a protest. The painter being concerned only with conveying his impression, simply seeks to be himself and no one else.