When I Stand Before A

I Throw Down The Gauntlet To Chance. For Example, I Prepare The Ground For A Picture By Cleaning My Brush Over The Canvas. Spilling A Little Turpentine Can Also Be Helpful.

Painting Must Be Fertile. It Must Give Birth To A World.. ..it Must Fertilize The Imagination.

I Work Like A Labourer On A Farm Or In A Vineyard. Things Come To Me Slowly. My Vocabulary Of Forms, For Instance, Has Not Been The Discovery Of A Day. It Took Shape In Spite Of Myself... That Is Why I Am Always Working On A Hundred Different Things At The Same Time.

The Simplest Things Give Me Ideas.

The Painting Rises From The Brushstrokes As A Poem Rises From The Words. The Meaning Comes Later.