Peellaert's Comic Strips Were The Literature Of

All Art Is Autobiographical; The Pearl Is The Oyster's Autobiography.

Even The Most Miserable Life Is Better Than A Sheltered Existence In An Organized Society Where Everything Is Calculated And Perfected.

Every Time I Start A Picture ... I Feel The Same Fear, The Same Self-doubts . . . And I Have Only One Source On Which I Can Draw, Because It Comes From Within Me.

I Don’t Like The Idea Of “understanding” A Film. I Don’t Believe That Rational Understanding Is An Essential Element In The Reception Of Any Work Of Art. Either A Film Has Something To Say To You Or It Hasn’t. If You Are Moved By It, You Don’t Need It Explained To You. If Not, No Explanation Can Make You Moved By It.

Objects And Their Functions No Longer Had Any Significance. All I Perceived Was Perception Itself, The Hell Of Forms And Figures Devoid Of Human Emotion And Detached From The Reality Of My Unreal Environment. I Was An Instrument In A Virtual World That Constantly Renewed Its Own Meaningless Image In A Living World That Was Itself Perceived Outside Of Nature. And Since The Appearance Of Things Was No Longer Definitive But Limitless, This Paradisiacal Awareness Freed Me From The Reality External To Myself. The Fire And The Rose, As It Were, Became One.