….in these limbos, one runs towards the banks and along them because one is not in a hurry, and the painter multiplies offerings to make the colours come when they are already there. they ask for nothing, they know they are innocent and lend themselves to it. he offers them his canvases, his papers, he holds out to them his lithograph stone, his copper plate, they immediately run to fix themselves on it.

the Opera pink alights on the bougainvillea as soon as day breaks. who said work? he closes his eyes, i am working in the dark, you know, he does nothing other than be the paper, the stone, the canvas, the beige skin of petals at dawn. the colours lie down because they know that they are loved, expected, never wanted. the process of painting is one of devotion. what lesson could the darkness still give? the holy envelopes you in it neutral sleep. without work, without fear, it prepares your bouquets.

Jean-François Lyotard   ‘A Gesture of Colour’