I Think, If One Is A Painter,

I Went Into My Own Black-out Period Which Lasted Two Or Three Years Where The Canvases Would Simply Build Up Until They'd Get Like Stone And It Was Always Just A Gray Mess. The Image Wouldn't Emerge, But I Worked Pretty Regularly. I Was Fighting To Find I Knew Not What, But I Could No Longer Stay With What I Had.

I Think Every Once In A While I Feel The Need To Break My Medium... If I Have Been Doing A Very Large Painting I Like To Drop Into Something In Small Scale. It Is A Challenge To Go Into This Size. It Is Just To Hold My Own Interest, And Then Each Media Has Its Own Conditions.

I Never Violate An Inner Rhythm. I Loathe To Force Anything. I Don't Know If The Inner Rhythm Is Eastern Or Western. I Know It Is Essential For Me. I Listen To It And I Stay With It. I Have Always Been This Way. I Have Regards For The Inner Voice.

One Could Go On For Ever As To Whether The Paint Should Be Thick Or Thin, Whether To Paint The Woman Or The Square, Hard-edge Or Soft, But After A While Such Questions Become A Bore. They Are Merely Problems In Aesthetics, Having Only To Do With The Outer Man.

Painting, For Me, When It Really 'happens,' Is As Miraculous As Any Natural Phenomenon - As Say, A Lettuce Leaf. By 'happens,' I Mean The Painting In Which The Inner Aspect Of Man And His Outer Aspects Interlock.