The eye can travel over the surface in a way parallel to the way it moves over nature. It should feel caressed and soothed, experience frictions and ruptures, glide and drift. One moment, there will be nothing to look at and the next second the canvas seems to refill, to be crowded with visual events.

Painting is, I think, inevitably an archaic activity and one that depends on spiritual values.

For me nature is not landscape, but the dynamism of visual forces.

There was a time when meanings were focused and reality could be fixed; when that sort of belief disappeared, things became uncertain and open to interpretation.

As the artist picks his way along, rejecting and accepting as he goes, certain patterns of enquiry emerge.

As a painter today you have to work without that essential platform. But if one does not deceive oneself and accepts this lack of certainty, other things may come into play.

I think this lack of a center has something to do with the loss of certainties that Christianity had to offer