Art Has The Lovely Habit Of Ruining

I Have Drawn People's Attention To The Fact That Art Is A Mirage. A Mirage, Just Like The Oasis That Appears In The Desert. It Is Very Beautiful, Until The Moment When You Die Of Thirst, Obviously. But We Do Not Die Of Thirst In The Field Of Art. The Mirage Has Substance.

Three Or Four Drops Of Height Have Nothing To Do With Savageness.

To All Appearances, The Artist Acts Like A Mediumistic Being Who, From The Labyrinth Beyond Time And Space, Seeks His Way Out To A Clearing.

Chess Is A Sport. A Violent Sport.

My Idea Was To Chose An Object That Wouldn't Attract Me, Either By Its Beauty Or By Its Ugliness. To Find A Point Of Indifference In My Looking At It, You See