Art Is Not About Itself But The

I Have Forced Myself To Contradict Myself In Order To Avoid Conforming To My Own Taste.

I Believe That A Picture, A Work Of Art, Lives And Dies Just As We Do.

Possible Reality [is Obtained] By Slightly Bending Physical And Chemical Laws.

The Life Of An Artist Is Like The Life Of A Monk, A Lewd Monk If You Like, Very Rabelaisian. It Is An Ordination.

As Soon As We Start Putting Our Thoughts Into Words And Sentences Everything Gets Distorted, Language Is Just No Damn Good—i Use It Because I Have To, But I Don’t Put Any Trust In It. We Never Understand Each Other.