Painting is a source of endless pleasure, but also of great anguish.
Painting is the passage from the chaos of the emotions to the order of the possible.
I refuse to confide and don't like it when people write about art.
Painting what I experience, translating what I feel, is a great liberation. But it is also work, self-examination, consciousness, criticism, struggle.
The best way to begin is to say: 'Balthus is a painter of whom nothing is known. And now let us have a look at the paintings'.
I had only planned to strike the gong violently in order to somehow shake people up and make them more aware. I think I succeeded.