Terra incognita: the space is vibrant with reality and yet, as to its essentials, it eludes, like a hypothesis, all the modes of knowledge that I have at my disposal, and it appears that it ought to remain unaffected by every research procedure, whether intuitive or discursive, indirect or direct, whatever its process of creation, through experience, conscience or reasoning. Moreover, I have to speak without the protection of any critical distance, since the question that has been put to me concerns the status of the unknowable in my own work. This means that we are talking about a testimony that already implies the transgression of several taboos. During a radio interview, Matisse once explained: “I said to my young students: Would you like to paint? First of all, you will have to cut off your tongue, because this decision deprives you of the right to express yourselves in any other way than with brushes.” If what the painter wants to say could be expressed in words, he would be a novelist, a poet, or a philosopher rather than a painter. Further, I believe that there is an antinomy today—and perhaps even a kind of open conflict, a permanent tension—between painting and writing. It is partly this conflict on which my research is based. Everything that follows should therefore be taken with caution. These are sketches and random ideas; extracts from reflections haphazardly jotted down during my work, arranged in some order only for the purposes of this article.