Monday, 28 December 2009
I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure of myself, and the paintings appear as in a dream.
I can't change the fact that my paintings don't sell. But the time will come when people will recognize that they are worth more than the value of the paints used in the picture.
Paintings have a life of their own that derives from the painter's soul.
Not infrequently, one encounters copies of important people; and, as with paintings, most people prefer the copy to the original.
I paint paintings because I can't get the experience in any other way but there are many more experiences that are equally satisfying to me and equally inept at answering all my questions, but hover in exactitude in describing themselves and defying me to define their logic.
As far as modern writing is concerned, it is rarely rewarding to translate it, although it might be easy. Translation is very much like copying paintings.
I would rather see the portrait of a dog that I know, than all the allegorical paintings they can show me in the world
I'm passionately involved in life: I love its change, its colour, its movement. To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings - it's all a miracle.
That's why people listen to music or look at paintings. To get in touch with that wholeness.
Paintings are like a beer, only beer tastes good and it's hard to stop drinking beer.
One of the best things about paintings is their silence-which prompts reflection and random reverie.