As Far As I Am Concerned The

A Moment Of Complete Happiness Never Occurs In The Creation Of A Work Of Art. The Promise Of It Is Felt In The Act Of Creation But Disappears Towards The Completion Of The Work. For It Is Then The Painter Realises That It Is Only A Picture He Is Painting. Until Then He Had Almost Dared To Hope The Picture Might Spring To Life.

The Paintings That Really Excite Me Have An Erotic Element Or Side To Them Irrespective Of Subject Matter

The Paintings Live Because Their Creator Has Been Passionately Attentive To Their Theme, And His Attention Has Left Something For Us To Look At. It Seems A Sort Of Miracle.

I Could Never Put Anything Into A Picture That Wasn't Actually There In Front Of Me. That Would Be A Pointless Lie, A Mere Bit Of Artfulness.

The Character Of The Artist Doesn't Enter Into The Nature Of The Art