As a boy,I was extremely shy, certainly as a result of my upbringing. I was an expert blusher,and some of my harsh actions may echo this shyness by way of compensation.

Art is gushing hot bile on the fields and harvesting the looks of nasty dwarfs.

Writing without making mistakes is like vomiting hot air.

The pencil-stroke is like cutting into the heart.

Being covered in white paint, you demonstrate behaviour intended to create a public nuisance, which did in fact cause offence to members of the public, and created a breach of the peace and public order.

The white room is an interior to be made devoid of any specific sensualism emanated by objects. Ultimately it is classic white canvas expanded into three-dimensional space.

My body is the intention. My body is the event. My body is the result.

My picture-poems are linguistic margins on visual atolls.

Poetry is when words are robbed of their attributed truth.

Art is created in a state of delirium. Anyting else is the restoration of monuments. Collectors are artist that do not have a home. they have to make one for themselves.

Color will play no part in the art of future.

Pure painting or the art of drawing whose point of departure is based on purely formal criteria is,in my opinion,passé. I do not reject it if other artists make attempts,but as far as I am concerned,this is what I believe. if I do not place a text next to my drawings,I consider the work on such programmes to be futile.