When I See People Making 'abstract' Painting,

The Things I Felt... About Certain Painters Of The Past That... Inspired Me, Like Cezanne And Manet... That Complete Losing Of Oneself In The Work To Such An Extent That The Work Itself... Felt As If A Living Organism Was Posited There On The Canvas, On This Surface... That's Truly... The Act Of Creation.

To Paint Is Always To Start At The Beginning Again, Yet Being Unable To Avoid The Familiar Arguments About What You See Yourself Painting.

I'm Not Interested In Painting; I'm Not Interested In Making A Picture. Then What The Hell Am I Interested In? I Must Be Interested In This Process.

No Good To Paint In The Head - What Happens Is What Happens When You Put The Paint Down - You Can Only Hope That You Are Alert - Ready - To See. What Joy It Is For Paint To Become A Thing - A Being. Believe In This Miracle - It Is Your Only Hope. To Will This Transformation Is Not Possible. Only A Slow Maturation Can Prepare The Hand And Eye To Become Quicker Than Ever. Ideas About Art Don't Matter. They Collapse Anyway In Front Of The Painting.

Usually I Draw In Relation To My Painting, What I Am Working On At The Time. On A Lucky Day A Surprising Balance Of Forms And Spaces Will Appear... Making Itself, The Image Taking Hold. This In Turn Moves Me Toward Painting - Anxious To Get To The Same Place, With The Actuality Of Paint And Light.