Painting seems like some kind of peculiar miracle that I need to have again and again.

Painting is an illusion, a piece of magic, so what you see is not what you see.

Frustration is one of the great things in art. Satisfaction is nothing.

There's some mysterious process at work here, which I don't even want to understand.

Usually I am on a work for a long stretch, until a moment arrives when the air of the arbitrary vanishes, and the paint falls into positions that feel destined.

We are image-makers and image-ridden... We work until we vanish.

To paint is a possessing rather than a picturing.

Look at any inspired painting. It's like a gong sounding; it puts you in a state of reverberation.

To paint is always to start at the beginning again, yet being unable to avoid the familiar arguments about what you see yourself painting.

I am a night painter, so when I come into the studio the next morning the delirium is over.

That's what I mean by something grips in a canvas. The moment that happens you are then sucked into the whole thing. Like some kind of rhythm.

I do expect a lot from myself, but it's also a balance of being... positive and also pushing yourself.

The older I get, the more relaxed I am.

One cannot make oneself, but one can sometimes help a little in the making of somebody else. It is well.

I learned how to have a little bit of distance when I explained songs and a little bit of distance when I wrote them. I think this is more interesting any way in art.

I saw Eternity the other night Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm as it was bright.

I find it fascinating that most people plan their vacation with better care than they do their lives. Perhaps that is because escape is easier than change

In those days, when you got boxed, that was it. A lot of old people were there because somebody wanted the farm. It was about property. People are treated like property.

When did we fall apart? or did you lie from the start?

My dad is Greek and my mum Jamaican. My grandparents brought me up for most of my childhood, but I saw my mum and dad all the time.

Yes I have smoked crack cocaine. But no - do I? am I an addict? - No. Yes, I've made mistakes. All I can do now is apologize and move on.