Whatever I Do Seems Artificial And False,

Make Something, A Kind Of Object, Which As It Changes Or Falls Apart (dies As It Were) Or Increases In Its Parts (grows As It Were) Offers No Clue As To What Its State Or Form Or Nature Was At Any Previous Time. Physical And Metaphysical. Obstinacy. Could This Be A Useful Object?

One Works Without Thinking How To Work.

One Wants One's Work To Be The World, But Of Course It's Never The World. The Work Is In The World; It Never Contains The Whole Thing.

As One Gets Older One Sees Many More Paths That Could Be Taken. Artists Sense Within Their Own Work That Kind Of Swelling Of Possibilities, Which May Seem A Freedom Or A Confusion.

That’s What Painting Does; It Organizes Vision In A Certain Way Or Suggests That Certain Things Be Paid Attention To And Certain Other Things Not Be Paid Attention To. It Functions In That Way To A Certain Extent In Our Civilization.