I don't paint visions.
To the best of my ability,
by painterly means, I describe objects
- and the mutual relationship of objects - in such a way that
none of our habitual concepts or feelings
is necessarily linked with them.
If the dream is a translation of waking life,
waking life is also a translation of the dream.
A truly poetic canvas is an awakened dream.
The mind loves the unknown.
It loves images whose meaning is unknown,
since the meaning of the mind itself is unknown.
Life obliges me to do something, so I paint.
Art evokes the mystery without which the world would not exist.
My painting is visible images which conceal nothing...
they evoke mystery and indeed when one sees one of my pictures,
one asks oneself this simple question 'What does that mean?'
It does not mean anything, because mystery means nothing either,
it is unknowable.
Only thought can resemble.
It resembles by being what it sees, hears, or knows;
it becomes what the world offers it.
Painting bores me like everything else.
Unfortunately, painting is one of the activities
– it is bound up in the series of activities –
that seems to change almost nothing in life,
the same habits are always recurring.
An object never serves the same function as its image – or its name...
The present reeks of mediocrity and the atom bomb.
We must not fear daylight just because
it almost always illuminates a miserable world
Everything we see hides another thing,
we always want to see what is hidden by what we see.
Everyone agrees that for light, time is space.
For objects that are not light, objects with mass,
the object has more time than space...
The speed of light 'c' is not a velocity.