Throughout the time in which I am working on a canvas I can feel how I am beginning to love it, with that love which is born of slow comprehension.

More important than a work of art itself is what it will sow. Art can die, a painting can disappear. What counts is the seed.

When I stand before a canvas, I never know what I'll do, and I am the first one surprised at what comes out.

The painting rises from the brushstrokes as a poem rises from the words. The meaning comes later.

I feel the need of attaining the maximum of intensity with the minimum of means. It is this which has led me to give my painting a character of even greater bareness.

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.