Once they witnessed one of his painting sold at auction for $100,000. And asked how you do it, he said, 'I feel as a horse must feel when the beautiful cup is given to the jockey.'

It seems to me that today, if the artist wishes to be serious - to cut out a little original niche for himself, or at least preserve his own innocence of personality - he must once more sink himself in solitude. There is too much talk and gossip; pictures are apparently made, like stock-market prices, by competition of people eager for profit; in order to do anything at all we need (so to speak) the wit and ideas of our neighbors as much as the businessmen need the funds of others to win on the market. All this traffic sharpens our intelligence and falsifies our judgment.

Drawing is not what you see but what you must make others see.

The Dance instills in you something that sets you apart. Something heroic and remote.

Art is vice. You don't marry it legitimately, you rape it.

Your pictures would have been finished a long time ago if I were not forced every day to do something to earn money.

Instantaneity is photography.