I Go To The Studio Everyday Because

I Do Not See Why The Loss Of Faith In The Known Image And Symbol In Our Time Should Be Celebrated As A Freedom. It Is A Loss From Which We Suffer, And This Pathos Motivates Modern Painting And Poetry At Its Heart.

The Painting Is Not On A Surface, But On A Plane Which Is Imagined. It Moves In A Mind. It Is Not There Physically At All. It Is An Illusion, A Piece Of Magic, So That What You See Is Not What You See.

Painting Is An Illusion, A Piece Of Magic, So What You See Is Not What You See. I Don't Know What A Painting Is; Who Knows What Sets Off Even The Desire To Paint? It Might Be Things, Thoughts, A Memory, Sensations, Which Have Nothing To Do Directly With Painting Itself. They Can Come From Anything And Anywhere.

I'm Not Interested In Painting; I'm Not Interested In Making A Picture. Then What The Hell Am I Interested In? I Must Be Interested In This Process.

If The Artist Starts Evaluating Himself, It’s An Enormous Block, Isn’t It?