Planes in colour. The coloured place where the heart of the planes fuse, where prismatic warmth is created, the encounter of planes in sunlight. I produce planes with the colours on my palette, do you follow me?...You have to see the planes …clearly… but fit them together, blend them. They must turn and interlock at the same time. Only volumes matter. Let air circulate between objects if you want to paint well. Like sensation between ideas in order to think properly, bitumen flattens. Logic sells us short. We’re painting in caves where there are no longer any planes. We’re strangling ourselves with theories which leave no room for intuition. A piece of cardboard must be made to grow into something round. Do you see? Contrasts must be set up through correct color relationships. The slightest faltering of the eye ruins the whole thing. And in my case, it’s terrible, the way my eye gets glued to a tree trunk or a lump of earth. There’s such a strong pull, it’s painful tearing it away.

My [method] is always the same. I’ve never had a different one — it’s hatred of the imaginary.  I would like to be as mindless as a vegetable.

  We’re in the evening of the world. Painting, like everything else, is vanishing…I’ll be perfectly happy if they just leave me in peace. Let me go on working in my own little corner ‘til I drop…
Excerpted from Cezanne’s talk as recalled by Joachim Gasquet