Do Unto Others As They Wish, But

I Feel Shame, Not For The Wrong Things I Have Done, But For The Right Things That I Have Failed To Do.

Society Takes What It Wants. The Artist Himself Does Not Count, Because There Is No Actual Existence For The Work Of Art. The Work Of Art Is Always Based On The Two Poles Of The Onlooker And The Maker, And The Spark That Comes From The Bipolar Action Gives Birth To Something - Like Electricity. But The Onlooker Has The Last Word, And It Is Always Posterity That Makes The Masterpiece. The Artist Should Not Concern Himself With This, Because It Has Nothing To Do With Him.

The Chess Pieces Are The Block Alphabet Which Shapes Thoughts; And These Thoughts, Although Making A Visual Design On The Chessboard, Express Their Beauty Abstractly, Like A Poem

I Consider Painting As A Means Of Expression, Not As A Goal.

I Wanted To Kill Art For Myself.. ..a New Thought For That Object.