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

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.

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

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.

If the artist starts evaluating himself, it’s an enormous block, isn’t it?

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

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