When I mix the blue, the red, and the yellow together, I create brown, the color of earth and clay, which mankind sculpts.  But there is no brush or knife with which I may separate the colors from the earth and bring them again into their pure resplendence.  A violent and painful cry of the earth is required.  From this energy, life emerges again, sustained by the blood that has gushed out of the earth; the light shines upon the blue and the red, which mingle and mix anew; and the waters of the river tremble as the orange emerges from it.

The elementary colors combine again and again in harmony, creating a new and interesting palette each day.  And herein lies the trial of the artist: I must be true to these ideas and portray them as they are.  If I say with my brush that green is elementary, I would deny the essence of its own existence; it would eventually wilt into the earth, where the red still remains.  If I allow orange to be primary, I would set the earth into a trajectory without direction; and if I make violet a source of creation, I would plunge the world into darkness.  Even these ideas themselves are the battles and trials that I strive to realize with colors and paints and brushes and canvas.  The colors themselves will show my work for what it is; I am helpless against them.

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