There's some mysterious process at work here, which I don't even want to understand.
I should like to paint like an man who has never seen a painting, but this man -myself - lives in a museum.
Frustration is one of the great things in art. Satisfaction is nothing.
Painting is an illusion, a piece of magic, so what you see is not what you see.
The painting is not on a surface, but on a plane which is imagined. It moves in a mind. It is not there physically at all. It is an illusion, a piece of magic, so that what you see is not what you see.
If the artist starts evaluating himself, it’s an enormous block, isn’t it?