My paintings are only the ashes of my art

The imagination is the vehicle of sensibility. Transported by the imagination, we attain life, life itself, which is absolute art.

For me, each nuance of a color is in some way an individual, a being who is from the same race as the base color, but who definitely possesses a distinct character and personal soul.

I am against the line and all its consequences: contours, forms, composition. All paintings of whatever sort, figurative or abstract, seem to me like prison windows in which the lines, precisely are the bars.

Blue suggests the sea and sky, and they, after all, are in actual, visible nature what is most abstract.

Color is enslaved by line, that becomes writing.

My monochrome pictures are not my definite works, but the preparation for my works. They are the leftovers from the creative processes, the ashes. My pictures, after all, are only the title-deeds to my property which I have to produce when I am asked to prove that I am a proprietor.