I believe the reason I love painting so much is that it forces one to be objective.

Height, width, and depth are the three phenomena which I must transfer into one plane to form the abstract surface of the picture, and thus to protect myself from the infinity of space.

In principle, any abstraction of the object is allowed which has a sufficiently strong creative power behind it.

What are you? What am I? Those are the questions that constantly persecute and torment me and perhaps also play some part in my art.

I think only of objects: of a leg or an arm, of the wonderful sense of foreshortening, breaking through the plane, of the division of space, of the combination of straight lines in relation to curved ones.

I went across the fields to avoid the straight highways, along the firing lines where people were shooting at a small wooded hill, which is now covered with wooden crosses and lines of graves instead of spring flowers.

One of my problems is to find the self.