The American abstract painter tells Edmund Lee about his influences, his creative process and his place in the art world.

There is a harmony in the way Caio Fonseca uses colours, shapes and forms that resolutely defies interpretation. A favourite among collectors and museums, the 51-year-old’s paintings have been displayed in the Whitney Museum and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, as well as the Smithsonian in Washington DC and the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. Having studied for five years, between 1978 and 1983, in Barcelona under Uruguayan painter Augusto Torres (son of Joaquin Torres-Garcia), Fonseca regards his specialty in abstract painting as a gradual evolution from the years of figurative painting early in his career. A friendly and effervescent presence in the flesh, Fonseca talks to us at his first solo exhibition in Hong Kong.

What have been the major influences on your work?
There are many different influences, even though I think it’s the very evolution by yourself which is the greatest influence. I never had one artist that’s been [the] most influential [to me], but I always take a little bit from this artist, his sense of proportion, and then from this one, his sense of colour. And I think that’s really what being an artist is: you put together your artistic identity from many, many sources. But, in terms of integrity as an artist, my father was a great example.

What did your father [Uruguayan sculptor Gonzalo Fonseca] think of your work? Did he try to lead you into his field?
Well, he used to say that everything leads to sculpture, but I don’t think he’s right. [Laughs] I think he was very interested in my work, and proud of it – even if he didn’t say it all the time.

When you start a new painting, how do you decide on its look?
I think one of the most difficult things is [to decide] what painting I’m not going to paint. There’re so many possibilities; I have so many ideas that I have to make some decisions. Maybe I’ll decide it’s not [about] the colour but the relationships between two forms. And then I choose what colours would be best for that. Once I get the main idea, then it begins a chain reaction.

Are colour and form the only things you think about while you paint? Or are there secretly other ideas – be they figurative or metaphorical – behind your works?
It’s a very good question. [Long pause] I’d say that it is just colour and form in the sense that this is not about power things, gender… It’s not something else that you need a wall of text. So that is true. But it’s also not about nothing, and it’s not just about pretty forms, and it’s also not arbitrary. Is there any idea that’s hidden underneath? I would say yes. I don’t get to talk about it that much, but just to give you a hint, because it’s all very functional. If anything, it just comes out of a secret nature inside forms and [the] visual world, and it’s basically my many years of figurative work going into the visual world and extracting the irreducible things, and then using those as blocks to make my inventions. And so, yeah, it’s a very… it’s kind of esoteric, in a way. It’s the secret inner working of forms. Does it make sense?

Sort of.
Yeah, sort of. [Laughs] Good.

If you’re to evaluate your own place in the art world right now, how would you put it?
I became a painter when I was 17, 18. If nobody ever bought my work or looked at it, I’d still be painting. Because I have to paint, and nothing would change my mind about that. I’ve been very lucky [that] people have responded to my work. It is very wonderful and humbling that something I create for myself can mean something to someone else. I feel very lucky that most of my paintings sell; they find people that want to keep them, and not being sold the next day. You know, you can find them in the basement or they can hang them on the wall. And I think today, there’s no great school of art anymore. Every artist must create his own constituency. If you ask yourself: who in the world is a painter’s painter? Maybe you come up with a very few [names], and maybe I’m in that group.

Finally, what’s your thought on the state of painting nowadays?
On the one hand, more people are interested in painting than ever in the history of the world. But, I mean, the kind of painting that I care about is endangered. I think people don’t study after nature anymore – some people do, but it’s not the norm. And the other thing I wanted to say is that it’s the first time I’ve shown in Hong Kong. It’s really a wonderful opportunity to show my work literally on the other side of the world to a new audience. And it’s a privilege – sort of a metaphor – to let the paintings speak for themselves. Because all I ask is that you look at my paintings for one, two, five minutes without saying anything. And I’m convinced the paintings want to explain a lot; I’m convinced they’re capable of doing that.

Caio Fonseca’s solo exhibition is at Ben Brown Fine Arts until November 17.