The Simplest Things Give Me Ideas.

The Picture Should Be Fecund. It Must Bring A World To Birth.

What I Am Seeking... Is A Motionless Movement, Something Equivalent To What Is Called The Eloquence Of Silence.

Throughout The Time In Which I Am Working On A Canvas I Can Feel How I Am Beginning To Love It, With That Love Which Is Born Of Slow Comprehension.

I Begin Painting And As I Paint The Picture Begins To Assert Itself, Or Suggest Itself, Under My Brush. The Form Becomes A Sign For A Woman Or A Bird As I Work... The First Stage Is Free, Unconscious... The Second Stage Is Carefully Calculated.

I Work Like A Labourer On A Farm Or In A Vineyard. Things Come To Me Slowly. My Vocabulary Of Forms, For Instance, Has Not Been The Discovery Of A Day. It Took Shape In Spite Of Myself... That Is Why I Am Always Working On A Hundred Different Things At The Same Time.