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

Only thought can resemble. It resembles by being what it sees, hears, or knows; it becomes what the world offers it.

If the dream is a translation of waking life, waking life is also a translation of the dream.

The mind loves the unknown. It loves images whose meaning is unknown, since the meaning of the mind itself is unknown.

Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see. There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us. This interest can take the form of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict, one might say, between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present.

People who look for symbolic meaning fail to grasp the inherent poetry and mystery of the images.

We are surrounded by curtains. We only perceive the world behind a curtain of semblance. At the same time, an object needs to be covered in order to be recognized at all.