If the weather is good I go into the nearby wood - there I am painting a small beech forest (in the sun) with a few conifers mixed in. This takes until 8 'o clock.

I have the gift of neither the spoken nor the written word, especially if I have to say something about myself or my work. Whoever wants to know something about me -as an artist, the only notable thing- ought to look carefully at my pictures and try and see in them what I am and what I want to do.

I can paint and draw. I believe this myself and a few other people say that they believe this too. But I'm not certain of whether it's true.

There is always hope, as long as the canvases are empty.

I have never painted a self-portrait. I am less interested in myself as a subject for a painting than I am in other people, above all women... There is nothing special about me. I am a painter who paints day after day from morning to night... Who ever wants to know something about me... ought to look carefully at my pictures.

There is no self-portrait of me.

Art is a line around your thoughts.

There is nothing that special to see when looking at me. I'm a painter who paints day in day out, from morning till evening - figure pictures and landscapes, more rarely portraits.

Even when I have to write a simple letter I'm scared stiff as if faced with looming seasickness.

Although even when I am being idle I have plenty of food for thought both early and late - thoughts both about and not about art.