“Colors, like features, follow the changes of the emotions.” —Pablo Picasso
Three señoritas sit in the sun, phrasing its aesthetic rays.
El Greco! Goya! Velázquez!
I hold the imitation of color to be the greatest difficulty of art.
Three señoritas sit in the sun, praising its luminous ways.
Tàpies! Sorolla! Trinxet!
With all its excesses, the modern impressionistic movement has given us one discovery, the color violet. It is the only discovery of importance in the art world since Velázquez.
Three señoritas sit in the sun, graced by the rays’ bouquets.
Dali! Miró! Picasso!
The first man to compare the cheeks of a young woman to a rose was obviously a poet; the first to repeat it was possibly an idiot.
Three señoritas sit in the art, embracing Spanish light’s waves.
El sol! El fuego! La luz Española!
I try to apply colors like words that shape poems, like notes that shape music.
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