He was “a man of art” as his friend Alain Pompidou characterized him someone completely devoted to his work. His creative endeavors which absorbed the lion’s share of his time seemed intent on both imposing their will and rewarding him with a blossoming sense of inner harmony. This apparent contradiction led him to describe himself as a “worker” at the service of the inventiveness that flowed through his body.

 

Anyone who had seen him paint as if following a script or story which unfurled in a colossal projection of his subconscious dream world before astonished spectators would understand why this description made sense.