Art Being So Much Greater Than Ourselves,

What Do I Want To Express? The Subject Means Little. The Arrangement, The Design, Colour, Shape, Depth, Light, Space, Mood, Movement, Balance, Not One Or All Of These Fills The Bill. There Is Something Additional, A Breath That Draws Your Breath Into Its Breathing, A Heartbeat That Pounds On Yours, A Recognition Of The Oneness Of All Things.

Inspiration Is Intention Obeyed.

Writing Is A Splendid Sorter Of... Feelings, Better Even Than Paint.

The Biggest Part Of Painting Perhaps Is Faith, And Waiting Receptively, Content To Go Any Way, Not Planning Or Forcing. The Fear, Though, Is Laziness. It Is So Easy To Drift And Finally Be Tossed Up On The Beach, Derelict.

There Is No Right And Wrong Way To Paint Except Honestly Or Dishonestly. Honestly Is Trying For The Bigger Thing. Dishonestly Is Bluffing And Getting Through A Smattering Of Surface Representation With No Meaning.