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

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

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.

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

There's some mysterious process at work here, which I don't even want to understand.

Frustration is one of the great things in art. Satisfaction is nothing.