Everything vanishes around me, and works are born as if out of the void. Ripe, graphic fruits fall off. My hand has become the obedient instrument of a remote will.

Color is the place where our brain and the universe meet.

The Biblical story of the creation is an excellent parable of movement. The work of art, too, is above all a process of creation, it is never experienced as a mere product.

For the understanding of a picture a chair is needed. Why a chair? To prevent the legs, as they tire, from interfering with the mind

Art does not reflect what is seen, rather it makes the hidden visible.

Nothing can be rushed. It must grow, it should grow of itself, and if the time ever comes for that work, then so much the better!

He has found his style, when he cannot do otherwise.