I Work Like A Gardener.

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

The More Ignoble I Find Life, The More Strongly I React By Contradiction, In Humour And In An Outburst Of Liberty And Expansion.

That Which Interests Me Above All Else Is The Calligraphy Of A Tree Or The Tiles Of A Roof, And I Mean Leaf By Leaf, Branch By Branch, Blade By Blade Of Grass.

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.

The Works Must Be Conceived With Fire In The Soul But Executed With Clinical Coolness.