What I Will No Longer Accept Is

I Begin My Pictures Under The Effect Of A Shock Which I Feel And Which Makes Me Escape From Reality... I Need A Point Of Departure, Even If It's Only A Speck Of Dust Or A Flash Of Light.

That Which Interests Me Above All Else Is The Calligraphy Of A Tree Or The Tiles Of A Roof, And I Mean Leaf By Leaf, Branch By Branch, Blade By Blade Of Grass.

What I Am Looking For... Is An Immobile Movement, Something Which Would Be The Equivalent Of What Is Called The Eloquence Of Silence, Or What St. John Of The Cross, I Think It Was, Described With The Term 'mute Music'.

The Works Must Be Conceived With Fire In The Soul But Executed With Clinical Coolness.

Little By Little, I've Reached The Stage Of Using Only A Small Number Of Forms And Colors. It's Not The First Time That Painting Has Been Done With A Very Narrow Range Of Colors. The Frescoes Of The Tenth Century Are Painted Like This. For Me, They Are Magnificent Things.