In England, it's thought to be morally suspect to worry about what your surroundings look like.

A painting is finished when the subject comes back, when what has caused the painting to be made comes back as an object.

I think that words are often extraneous to what I do.

You keep on balancing and balancing and balancing until the picture wins, because then the subject's turned into the picture.

I find old copies of National Gallery catalogues, which are written in the dryest possible prose, infinitely soothing.

I am isolated as an artist, not as a person.

I'm very envious of the few artists who are any good and still do portraits.