Painting and observing are one. There needs to be space to make a movement, a gesture, to give the feeling of what I observe enough room.
Painting is interpretation, but I do not invent things, nor do I try to preserve them “as they are.” I don’t know how they are. Seeing and feeling produce a third thing, and this third thing feels so physical to me that I want it to become observable.
I like what happens when parts of a painting remain unfinished.
People begin to see precisely the things that were left out: merely hinted at, displaced, transformed. Many people have told me that the girl on the tram looks like me. She has no face at all. They sometimes tell me what the man by the window is thinking, although he is distorted almost to the point of abstraction. Their interpretations are very close to how I experience those details myself.
