The painting rises from the brushstrokes as a poem rises from the words. The meaning comes later.
A simple line painted with the brush can lead to freedom and happiness.
What I will no longer accept is the mediocre life of a modest little gentleman.
The simplest things give me ideas.
Painting or poetry is made as one makes love - a total embrace, prudence thrown to the winds, nothing held back.
What I am looking for... is an immobile movement, something which would be the equivalent of what is called the eloquence of silence, or what St. John of the Cross, I think it was, described with the term 'mute music'.