All These Troubles Revolve Around The Irritable

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.

Then You Learn About Composition, You Learn About Old Masters, You Form Certain Ideas About Structure. But The Inhuman Activity Of Trying To Make Some Kind Of Jump Or Leap, Where , The Painting Is Always Saying, 'what Do You Want From Me? I Can Only Be A Painting.' You Have To Go From Part To Part, But You Shouldn't See Yourself Go From Part To Part, That's The Whole Point.

What Is Seen And Called The Picture Is What Remains - An Evidence. Even As One Travels In Painting Toward A State Of 'unfreedom' Where Only Certain Things Can Happen, Unaccountably The Unknown And Free Must Appear.

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.

Painting Is An Illusion, A Piece Of Magic, So What You See Is Not What You See. I Don't Know What A Painting Is; Who Knows What Sets Off Even The Desire To Paint? It Might Be Things, Thoughts, A Memory, Sensations, Which Have Nothing To Do Directly With Painting Itself. They Can Come From Anything And Anywhere.