The whole man is empty.
Vital energy flows from the empty body into space.
Whatever the vital energy touches force is there.
Lines and spaces arise not from brute force but from that vital power.
Vital strength nourishes, brute force enervates.
I lean towards those artists who meditate.
Chinese mad-monks were the artists of old.
The look of the innocent — simple, clear, bright-eyed —
that is part of the conditions for beginning to paint — and to live.
Unless a work of art is enmeshed in your life's struggle, it is mere academic exercise.
An artist invents his own style as self-nourishment.
Avoid the logical — keep in touch with the immediate.
My works spring from direct contact with anything at the moment.
Spontaneously, intuitively, my art emerges from a give-and-take with the subject.
Paintings are the results of such interactions.
Anything — a cat, a dog, an action, music — can arouse me to painting. I dance, fight, talk with and dominate my subjects, while using any colour that is called for at the moment. The subject matter is revealed by the rhythms in my paintings.
Fascination is superior to taking-it-for-grantedness; nor is confidence certainty.
Man's strength and powers surge into the picture-making process; and the picture gives energy in return.
People feel no longer chained while looking at my works.
I paint for joy, not for exhaustion.
Either the vital energy is or is not in you; either the vital energy is deposited in the painting or it is not.
Yoga, meditation, Chinese soft-style boxing is the power source; painting is their outgrowth.