My habit of pitching up in Paris for little meetings with old friends is disquieting for some of them, I suppose. They may have not seen me for two or three years and I come out of the blue, arriving at what may be an awkward moment for them. And then there is the intellectual challenge of finding a way to summarise in a few minutes the chaos that has been going on in the last couple of years, a chaos that might resemble a Jackson Pollock, all action and dripping. In their accounts some people are precise, controlled and abstract (Mondrian); others anecdotal (Spencer); some unable to produce order (Dubuffet) or only interested in partial accounts (Sickert); or else impenetrable (Rothko); others too afraid to show up (Munch The Scream).

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