The friend who holds your hand and says the wrong thing is made of dearer stuff than the one who stays away.
My work is not repetition. It is an exploration.
Just as with the quartet, each part of a painting is telling a different story.
I choose color on the spur of the moment. People ask me why I paint in red. I do not have the slightest idea. I was painting in blue, then I had a need to paint in red. To be able to interact with the medium, this is the key. There are no sure ways to do art.
Seeing is looking at something in saturation. But we tend to look at something for, say, 130 of a second.
The question of painting is bound up with epistemology, with the engagement of the viewer, with what the viewer may learn.
With monochrome painting. . . the idiosyncrasy of the work, its difference, its expression, lies in shape.
The poor are the only consistent altruists; they sell all they have and give it to the rich.
Everyone has a purpose in life. . . a unique gift or special talent to give to others.
You can reach stupidity only with a cannon ball.
Maine should be pleased that its animal is not a waverer, and rather than fight, lets the primed quill fall. Shallow oppressor, intruder, insister, you have found a resister.