I Have A Hatred Of Habit And

What Do I Ask Of A Painting? I Ask It To Astonish, Disturb, Seduce, Convince.

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.

Full, Saturated Colours Have An Emotional Significance I Want To Avoid.

It Is The Only Point Of Getting Up Every Morning: To Paint, To Make Something Good, To Make Something Even Better Than Before, Not To Give Up, To Compete, To Be Ambitious.

I Always Felt That My Work Hadn't Much To Do With Art; My Admirations For Other Art Had Very Little Room To Show Themselves In My Work Because I Hoped That If I Concentrated Enough The Intensity Of Scrutiny Alone Would Force Life Into The Pictures. I Ignored The Fact That Art, After All, Derives From Art. Now I Realize That This Is The Case.