The life of an artist is like the life of a monk, a lewd monk if you like, very Rabelaisian. It is an ordination.

I like living, breathing better than working...my art is that of living. Each second, each breath is a work which is inscribed nowhere, which is neither visual nor cerebral, it's a sort of constant euphoria.

I was interested in ideas, not merely visual products. I wanted to put painting once again at the service of the mind.

All this twaddle, the existence of God, atheism, determinism, liberation, societies, death, etc., are pieces of a chess game called language, and they are amusing only if one does not preoccupy oneself with 'winning or losing this game of chess.

Living is more a question of what one spends than what one makes.

Art is not about itself but the attention we bring to it.

An abstract painting need in 50 years by no means look "abstract" any longer.