Our house was awash in books, and my mother doled out her favorites like they were special treats - which they were.
Painting seems like some kind of peculiar miracle that I need to have again and again.
Where do you put a form? It will move all around, bellow out and shrink, and sometimes it winds up where it was in the first place. But at the end it feels different, and it had to make the voyage. I am a moralist and cannot accept what has not been paid for, or a form that has not been lived through.
I go to the studio everyday because one day I may go and the Angel will be there. What if I don't go and the Angel comes?
What is seen and called the picture is what remains - an evidence. Even as one travels in painting toward a state of 'unfreedom' where only certain things can happen, unaccountably the unknown and free must appear.
There are so many things in the world - in the cities - so much to see. Does art need to represent this variety and contribute to its proliferation? Can art be that free? The difficulties begin when you understand what it is that the soul will not permit the hand to make.
I should like to paint like an man who has never seen a painting, but this man -myself - lives in a museum.
The age, you know. A man can be wiser and wiser, and a woman is older and older.
Online dating is cool but I think Myspace and Facebook is a little bit off key.
There are times when we stop, we sit still. We listen and breezes from a whole other world begin to whisper.
IF THE AMERICAN PEOPLE COULD LEARN WHAT I KNOW OF THE FIERCE HATRED OF THE PRIESTS OF ROME AGAINST OUR INSTITUTIONS, OUR SCHOOLS, OUR MOST SACRED RIGHTS, AND OUR SO DEARLY BOUGHT LIBERTIES, THEY WOULD DRIVE THEM OUT AS TRAITORS!