Speak your mind, but ride a fast horse.
When critics or art historians or curators ask me why I still paint, the answer is that I am not naive.
When you feel concentrated within the intensity of making paintings, you know exactly what you are doing.
When I start to paint, it is real agony. I get nervous. The day before, I am already working up to it. Then I get to the studio and, once the image starts to emerge and come together, pleasure kicks in. And then you can see things that no other person can see.
Life is politics, basically, but you don't just go to a gallery and put the words 'art' and 'politics' on the wall.
Every painting has a weakness and a breaking point, where the essence of a painting lies. In my case it is never in the centre.
If you ask people to remember a painting and a photograph, their description of the photograph is far more accurate than that of the painting. Strangely enough, there is a physical element intertwined with the painting. It shakes loose an emotional element within the viewer.
The ancients dreaded death: the Christian can only fear dying.
When I talk about divorce, I am not blaming the women I've married. It's not their fault.
Today we are shapers of the world of tomorrow.
The fact is that between the classes there is a vast gulf that precludes all mutual understanding, and makes simultaneous efforts simply impossible.