Painting seems like some kind of peculiar miracle that I need to have again and again.

I am a night painter, so when I come into the studio the next morning the delirium is over.

Painting is an illusion, a piece of magic, so what you see is not what you see.

It is possible to make a living thing, not a diagram of what I have been thinking: to posit with paint something living, something that changes each day.

No good to paint in the head - what happens is what happens when you put the paint down - you can only hope that you are alert - ready - to see. What joy it is for paint to become a thing - a being. Believe in this miracle - it is your only hope. To will this transformation is not possible. Only a slow maturation can prepare the hand and eye to become quicker than ever. Ideas about art don't matter. They collapse anyway in front of the painting.

In my experience a painting is not made with colors and paint at all. I don't know what a painting is; who knows what sets off even the desire to paint?

Painting and sculpture are very archaic forms. It's the only thing left in our industrial society where an individual alone can make something with not just his own hands, but brains, imagination, heart maybe.