Painting what I experience, translating what I feel, is like a great liberation. But it is also work, self-examination, consciousness, criticism, struggle.
The best way to begin is to say: Balthus is a painter of whom nothing is known. And now let us have a look at his paintings.
I will always find even the worst paintings that attempt some kind of representation better than the best invented paintings.
The craft of painting has virtually disappeared. There is hardly anyone left who really possesses it. For evidence one has only to look at the painters of this century.
Painting is a source of endless pleasure, but also of great anguish.
Painting is a language which cannot be replaced by another language. I don't know what to say about what I paint, really.