The furthest limit was then reached, because in the group of metaphysical paintings attributed to me there was a fantastic fake; it was such an obvious fake that, in order not to see it was a fake, you had to have your eyes covered not with slices of ham but with slabs of reinforced concrete.
So far as works of art are concerned, justice does not seem to be that woman who is always represented with a pair of scales in one hand, a sword in the other and a bandage over her eyes. For how can it be explained that a beggar half-dead with hunger is arrested, tried and punished for stealing a small loaf or a little fruit, while so many nimble-fingered people cheat others out of tens and hundreds of millions through the sale of fake pictures and do all this without punishment? Explain it to me, dear reader, if you can. Are the two sides of Justice's scales not always on the same level then? As for the bandage this this noble lady wears over her eyes, I would remove it and give her instead a large powerful pair of opera-glasses so that she could see, especially what is happening in the distance and what excapes normal vision.
Sometimes, when I say to someone that I feel I have made progress, that I feel I have gone even further along the precipitous, difficult and wearisome path of art, he looks at me with an expression that is half-astonished, half-amused, and exclaims with a laugh, "But you're joking, dear Maestro! Your're talking about progress as though you were an eanest little schoolboy who's hoping to get a better report. Our dear Maestro is always ready for some fun!" And then there is more laughter to end the remarks about what he believes to be a kind of boutade on my part. Instead, I am telling the truth. Every artist worthy of the name is driven by all his strength towards progress, that is towards perfection. Perfection, supreme goal, unattainable ideal, which shines like a lighthouse beam over the stromy seas of art and urges the true artist to work continually better, to be continually more satisfied. In fact, the wish for perfection is like the wish for happiness, for supreme happiness, which is a mirage, at least in the adventure of our life.