Few aphorisms have enjoyed a greater career than that of Georges-Louis Leclerc, Comte de Buffon, who was inducted into L’Académie Française in 1753. His statement that ‘the style is the man himself’ – with all its obscurity – is especially oppressive in a time when organised style movements are outdated. If there is no style of the time to act as a great narrative or an intellectual framework defining the artist’s creative parameters, then artists arrive at a tormenting crossroads. They may either build a universe out of their own style (in the spirit of faith in art’s immanent nature); or they may seek some basis, something outside themselves to grab hold of (inevitably making their output questionable for all those who doubt the existence of an exterior foundation). However controversial it may seem, Marcell Jankovics, who died last year, made some elegiac statements at the end of his life that allow us to deduce how he experienced this theoretical, artistic dilemma as a personal inner conflict, despite general and widespread knowledge of his oeuvre.