The human face is as strange to me as a countenance, which, the more one looks at it, the more it closes itself off and escapes by the steps of unknown stairways.

I paint and sculpt to get a grip on reality... to protect myself.

It is impossible to do a thing the way I see it because the closer I get the more differently I see.

Once the object has been constructed, I have a tendency to rediscover in it, transformed and displaced, images, impressions, facts which have deeply moved me (often without my knowing it).

The one thing that fills me with enthusiasm is to try, despite everything, to get nearer to those visions that seem so hard to express.

I don't know if I work in order to do something, or in order to know why I can't do what I want to do.

All I can do will only ever be a faint image of what I see and my success will always be less than my failure or perhaps equal to the failure.