What happens with these pictures that I take? They lie around on some memory card. You buy a new, empty card, the old one lies around somewhere, and I never look at the old photos. Which is why I take fewer and fewer pictures the older I get. Instead, I try to “experience” or “see” something, which is much more interesting than something to download. What I experience and see gets worked out in my paintings. A sense of orientation does not inhere in a photograph.
There have never been as many photographers as there are today… but they will all disappear. These photographs don’t exist; they swirl around in an electronic space, and ten years from now no one will know how to open, let alone archive, these files. Or it rains and your memory card dies. And so on and so forth. My faith in “good old” painting is only reinforced by such observations. Let it rain—an oil painting will still survive.
[A painting] lasts for at least four hundreds years, yes. Then it could be that a corner gets a few scratches or that the paint cracks, but those problems are fixed by a good restorer.