For almost two months now I've been struggling away with no result.

What could be said about me...a man to whom only his painting matters? And of course his garden and his flowers as well.

I didn't become an impressionist. As long as I can remember I always have been one.

Everything changes, even stone.

Most people think I paint fast. I paint very slowly.

I see less and less... I need to avoid lateral light, which darkens my colors. Nevertheless, I always paint at the times of day most propitious for me, as long as my paint tubes and brushes are not mixed up... I will paint almost blind, as Beethoven composed completely deaf.

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