The painting rises from the brushstrokes as a poem rises from the words. The meaning comes later.
When I stand before a canvas, I never know what I'll do, and I am the first one surprised at what comes out.
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.
I make no distinction between poetry and painting.
I want to assassinate painting.
I begin painting and as I paint the picture begins to assert itself, or suggest itself, under my brush. The form becomes a sign for a woman or a bird as I work... The first stage is free, unconscious... the second stage is carefully calculated.
