Gardening was something I learned in my youth when I was unhappy. I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

the more I live, the more I regret how little i know

Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.

Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it.

I would like to paint the way a bird sings.

I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.

My garden is a slow work, pursued with love and I do not deny that I am proud of it. Forty years ago, when I established myself here, there was nothing but a farmhouse and a poor orchard...I bought the house and little by little I enlarged and organized it...I dug, planted weeded, myself; in the evenings the children watered.