But you begin to feel as you go on working that unless painting proves its right to exist by being critical and self-judging, it has no reason to exist at all - or is not even possible. The canvas is a court where the artist is prosecutor, defendant, jury and judge. Art without a trial disappears at a glance.

There is something mysterious in this work that I do not ever what to discover.

You know, comments about style always seem strange to me - 'why do you work in this style, or in that style' - as if you had a choice in the matter... What you're doing is trying to stay alive and continue and not die.

Usually I am on a work for a long stretch, until a moment arrives when the air of the arbitrary vanishes, and the paint falls into positions that feel destined.

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.

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

I should like to paint like an man who has never seen a painting, but this man -myself - lives in a museum.