I'm quite taken aback when I get something that appears to be technically a good photograph, because it's not necessarily my intention.

There was something about the self-confession and self-confusion of Abstract expressionism - as though the man and the work were the same - that personally always put me off because at that time my focus was in the opposite direction.

By the time you establish your priorities, there really isn't any fun or need to interest yourself in what you're doing. And this I find disastrous.

A newspaper that you're not reading can be used for anything; and the same people didn't think it was immoral to wrap their garbage in newspaper.

This is a portrait of Iris Clert if I say so.

I've not been cursed with talent, which could be a great inhibitor.

Success is a worn down pencil.