Are we to paint what's on the face, what's inside the face, or what's behind it?
You don't make art, you find it
Give me a museum and I'll fill it.
What I capture in spite of myself interests me more than my own ideas.
Art sweeps the everyday dust from your soul.
What is a face, really? Its own photo? Its make-up? Or is it a face as painted by such or such painter? That which is in front? Inside? Behind? And the rest? Doesn't everyone look at himself in his own particular way? Deformations simply do not exist.