I like to convey the idea that art is important in everyday life.

I look at my work and make up my mind about it. After that, neither flattery nor criticism matters to me.

Now and then when I get an idea for a picture, I think, how ordinary. Why paint that old rock? Why not go for a walk instead? But then I realise that to someone else it may not seem so ordinary.

I wish people were all trees and I think I could enjoy them then.

Sun-bleached bones were most wonderful against the blue - that blue that will always be there as it is now after all man's destruction is finished.

I don't see why we ever think of what others think of what we do – no matter who they are. Isn't it enough just to express yourself?

To make your unknown known - that's the important thing.