Art is accusation, expression, passion. Art is a fight to the finish between black charcoal and white paper.

Art is so wonderfully irrational, exuberantly pointless, but necessary all the same. Pointless and yet necessary, that's hard for a puritan to understand.

No idea stays pure. Even the flowering of art isn't pure. And the sun has spots.

I have seen and drawn dying, poisoned worlds. I published a book of drawings called 'Death of Wood' about one such world, on the border between the Federal Republic of Germany and what was then still the German Democratic Republic.

We already have the statistics for the future: the growth percentages of pollution, overpopulation, desertification. The future is already in place.

Everyone is born into a certain era. I wouldn't want to see anyone faced with the circumstances that prevailed at the time, when there were few or no alternatives.