The Picture Should Be Fecund.

Never, Never Do I Set To Work On A Canvas In The State It Comes In From The Shop. I Provoke Accidents - A Form, A Splotch Of Color. Any Accident Is Good Enough. I Let The Matiere Decide. Then I Prepare A Ground By, For Example, Wiping My Brushes On The Canvas. Letting Fall Some Drops Of Turpentine On It Would Do Just As Well. If I Want To Make A Drawing I Crumple The Sheet Of Paper Or I Wet It; The Flowing Water Traces A Line And This Line May Suggest What Is To Come Next.

What I Am Seeking... Is A Motionless Movement, Something Equivalent To What Is Called The Eloquence Of Silence.

I Think Of My Studio As A Vegetable Garden, Where Things Follow Their Natural Course. They Grow, They Ripen. You Have To Graft. You Have To Water.

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

You Can Look At A Picture For A Week And Never Think Of It Again. You Can Also Look At The Picture For A Second And Think Of It All Your Life.