The surface of Venice is constantly metamorphosing [and] painting Venice is almost like being a restorer, peeling off the layers to find the picture after picture underneath.

In the winter, Venice is like an abandoned theater. The play is finished, but the echoes remain.

A portrait is a painting with something wrong with the mouth.

A painting is never finished - it simply stops in interesting places

Painting was probably one of the last things.

A photograph is not only an image (as a painting is an image), an interpretation of the real; it is also a trace, something directly stenciled off the real, like a footprint or a death mask.