The Memory Of Cumshewa Is Of A

I Have Been Sent More Ridiculous Press Notices. People Are Frequently Comparing My Work With Van Gogh... I Do Hope I Do Not Get Bloated And Self-satisfied. When Proud Feelings Come I Step Up Over Them To The Realm Of Work, To The Thing I Want, The Liveness Of The Thing Itself.

How Badly I Want That Nameless Thing! First There Must Be An Idea, A Feeling... Maybe It Was An Abstract Idea That You've Got To Find A Symbol For, Or Maybe It Was A Concrete Form That You Have To Simplify Or Distort To Meet Your Ends, But That Starting Point Must Pervade The Whole.

Sometimes I Could Quit Paint And Take To Charring. It Must Be Fine To Clean Perfectly, To Shine And Polish And Know That It Could Not Be Done Better. In Painting That Never Occurs.

I Can Rise Above The Humility Of My Failure With An Intense Desire To Search Deeper And A Blind Faith That Some Day My Sight May Pierce Through The Veils That Hide. I Know God's Face Is There If I Keep My Gaze Steady Enough.

Bless... The Two Painting Masters Who First Pointed Out To Me That There Was Coming And Going Among Trees, That There Was Sunlight In Shadows.