My Art Is Rooted In A Single

Photography Is An Art Which Touches And Grips One's Own Heart's Blood.

Colors Live A Remarkable Life Of Their Own After They Have Been Applied To The Canvas.

Any Number Of Holier-than-thou Honorable Realists Walk Around In The Belief That They Have Accomplished Something, Simply Because They Tell You For The Hundredth Time That A Field Is Green And A Red-painted House Is Painted Red.

It Was Always My Intention That The Frieze Should Be Housed In A Room Which Would Provide A Suitable Architectural Frame For It.

To Die Is As If One's Eyes Had Been Put Out And One Cannot See Anything Any More. Perhaps It Is Like Being Shut In A Cellar. One Is Abandoned By All. They Have Slammed The Door And Are Gone. One Does Not See Anything And Notices Only The Damp Smell Of Putrefaction.