My painting is visible images which conceal nothing... they evoke mystery and indeed when one sees one of my pictures, one asks oneself this simple question 'What does that mean'? It does not mean anything, because mystery means nothing either, it is unknowable.

Life obliges me to do something, so I paint.

I need to see the original paintings just as little as I have to read the original manuscripts of books.

Nothing is confused except the mind.

My painting is visible images that conceal nothing... they evoke mystery. Mystery means nothing. It is unknowable.

My investigations resembled the pursuit of the solution to a problem for which I had three data: the object, the thing connected with it in the shadow of my consciousness, and the light wherein that thing would become apparent.

The famous pipe. How people reproached me for it! And yet, could you stuff my pipe? No, it's just a representation, is it not? So if I had written on my picture “This is a pipe”, I'd have been lying!