The character of the artist doesn't enter into the nature of the art.

A painter's tastes must grow out of what so obsesses him in life that he never has to ask himself what it is suitable for him to do in art.

I remember Francis Bacon would say that he felt he was giving art what he thought it previously lacked. With me, it's what Yeats called the fascination with what's difficult. I'm only trying to do what I can't do.

I am only interested in painting the actual person, in doing a painting of them, not in using them to some ulterior end of art. For me, to use someone doing something not native to them would be wrong.

That day I behaved like a good artist, one whose job is to build rather than break.

Art arises when the secret vision of the artist and the manifestation of nature agree to find new shapes.