Throughout The Time In Which I Am

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

More Important Than A Work Of Art Itself Is What It Will Sow. Art Can Die, A Painting Can Disappear. What Counts Is The Seed.

Art Class Was Like A Religious Ceremony To Me. I Would Wash My Hands Carefully Before Touching Paper Or Pencils. The Instruments Of Work Were Sacred Objects To Me.

My Tendency Towards Bareness And Simplification Has Been Practiced In Three Fields: Modeling, Colors, And The Figuration Of The Personages.

My Way Is To Seize An Image The Moment It Has Formed In My Mind, To Trap It As A Bird And To Pin It At Once To Canvas. Afterward I Start To Tame It, To Master It. I Bring It Under Control And I Develop It.