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Wherever art appears, life disappears.
An artist is never ahead of his time but most people are far behind theirs.
The creative act lasts but a brief moment, a lightning instant of give-and-take, just long enough for you to level the camera and to trap the fleeting prey in your little box.
I like to pretend that my art has nothing to do with me.
I choose a block of marble and chop off whatever I don’t need.
The artist one day falls through a hole in the brambles, and from that moment he is following the dark rapids of an underground river which may sometimes flow so near to the surface that the laughing picnic parties are heard above.
Rationalism is the enemy of art, though necessary as a basis for architecture.
Every other artist begins with a blank canvas, a piece of paper the photographer begins with the finished product.
When I work, and in my art, I hold hands with God.
The perfection of art is to conceal art.