There are two reasons why I’ve always been reluctant to talk about my work:

1 – because painting is for doing and not for talking about (let’s leave this to the others, if they wish).
2 – because this form of expression is enough in itself and it would be redundant to try and add to its meaning with words.

Yet, if painting were to have connotations with reality and could be explained, then it wouldn’t be painting any more, just as a poem or an erudite musical score wouldn’t be the same either. And they can’t be explained because they transcend all forms of apparent logical reasoning.

And, when I like a painting, I say to myself, “that’s an interesting picture, a curious painting”. And I enjoy feeling a little bewildered by it. Without any explanation.

Satisfaction in the midst of dissatisfaction.

I don’t believe that any painter can ever be satisfied because he thinks he has finally resolved a painting. That would be a mistake. A painter lives by making repeated and constant attempts to do this in the hundreds and thousands of pictures that he paints throughout his lifetime. And he knows he won’t succeed. But, this feeling of dissatisfaction is essential if he’s going to explore further and with great curiosity.

And this dissatisfaction brings him joy because it means he has refused to give up and take the easy way out.

Note: Painting is free. Which means that whoever engages in it needs to feel this freedom passionately. It’s good to make a break with convenience. It’s good to avoid being dazzled in any way by fashions or by whatever appears to be new (because it’s frequently only new on the outside, meaning it’s already old and adds nothing at all).