If We Master A Bit Of Drawing,

I've Been Fifty Thousand Times To The Louvre. I Have Copied Everything In Drawing, Trying To Understand.

Once The Object Has Been Constructed, I Have A Tendency To Rediscover In It, Transformed And Displaced, Images, Impressions, Facts Which Have Deeply Moved Me (often Without My Knowing It).

The Human Face Is As Strange To Me As A Countenance, Which, The More One Looks At It, The More It Closes Itself Off And Escapes By The Steps Of Unknown Stairways.

If We Master A Bit Of Drawing, Everything Else Is Possible.

I Don't Know Who I Am Or Who I Was. I Know It Less Than Ever. I Do And I Don't Identify Myself With Myself. Everything Is Totally Contradictory, But Maybe I Have Remained Exactly As I Was As A Small Boy Of Twelve.