Art Has To Address Eternal Issues.

If I Indulge Myself And Surrender To Memory, I Can Still Feel The Knot Of Excitement That Gripped Me As I Turned The Corner Into Rue Mimosas, Looking For The House Of Rene Magritte. It Was August, 1965. I Was 33 Years Old And About To Meet The Man Whose Profound And Witty Surrealist Paintings Had Contradicted My Assumptions About Photography.

Taking Photographs And Writing Is My Way Of Saying I Was Here, I Saw This, I Felt This, I Heard This.

Art Is Really Whispering, Not Shouting.

My Work Is About My Life As An Event, And I Find Myself To Be Very Temporal, Transient.

Usually When Painters Use Photographs, They Enlarge And Copy Them And Simply Make A Large, Boring Painting Of A Large, Boring Photograph.