Painting Or Poetry Is Made As One

My Characters Have Undergone The Same Process Of Simplification As The Colors. Now That They Have Been Simplified, They Appear More Human And Alive Than If They Had Been Represented In All Their Details.

Art Class Was Like A Religious Ceremony To Me. I Would Wash My Hands Carefully Before Touching Paper Or Pencils. The Instruments Of Work Were Sacred Objects To Me.

I Begin Painting And As I Paint The Picture Begins To Assert Itself, Or Suggest Itself, Under My Brush. The Form Becomes A Sign For A Woman Or A Bird As I Work... The First Stage Is Free, Unconscious... The Second Stage Is Carefully Calculated.

The Simplest Things Give Me Ideas.

The Painting Rises From The Brushstrokes As A Poem Rises From The Words. The Meaning Comes Later.