This was a small glass factory or large workshop producing lenses, magnifying glasses and windows. It is now my studio, which you see to the right, with Gottfried Salzmann’s on the left. The stone pillars are totally black, a wonderfully sooty black, and I hang the things I love upon them. Not even in my dreams I would have thought of painting these old dark walls that are marked by the wood fire of the forge that is still there, on the other side, with its bellows. We use is as a fireplace now and its warmth reminds us of its history and the energy of the people who were working there.
Along the windows, there is an enormous block of wood that supported the heavy machinery. This is now my work table and I fix the canvas for my larger paintings on the spacious white wall. After all these years of painting with the same palette, it now has strange layers of paint, some of them with parts of brushes that look like fossils, and old pots that have taken root. I live in an atmosphere filled with paint and the fumes of turpentine, the defining fragrance of a painter’s studio.