In the mess of papers and books, open or piled upon one another, in the disordered scene of brushes and paints, canvases leaning against the wall, the studio preserves the rough drafts of creation... The studio is the image of potentiality-of the writer's potentiality to write, of the painter's or sculptor's potentiality to paint or sculpt.
How does one have a potentiality? One cannot have a potentiality; one can only inhabit it... By dint of having something, we inhabit it, we belong to it.
The studio is the form of its inhabiting-how could it change?
In the wicker letter tray against the wall at the center of the desk in both my studio in Rome and the one in Venice, on the left there is an invitation to the dinner celebrating Jean Beaufret's seventieth birthday... Since then, it has always remained on my desk.
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