Art Comes From Joy And Pain...but Mostly

From The Moment Of My Birth, The Angels Of Anxiety, Worry, And Death Stood At My Side, Followed Me Out When I Played, Followed Me In The Sun Of Springtime And In The Glories Of Summer. They Stood At My Side In The Evening When I Closed My Eyes, And Intimidated Me With Death, Hell, And Eternal Damnation.

Photography Is An Art Which Touches And Grips One's Own Heart's Blood.

I Was Walking Along A Path With Two Friends - The Sun Was Setting - Suddenly The Sky Turned Blood Red - I Paused, Feeling Exhausted, And Leaned On The Fence - There Was Blood And Tongues Of Fire Above The Blue-black Fjord And The City - My Friends Walked On, And I Stood There Trembling With Anxiety - And I Sensed An Infinite Scream Passing Through Nature.

Death Is Pitch-dark, But Colors Are Light. To Be A Painter, One Must Work With Rays Of Light.

My Whole Life Has Been Spent Walking By The Side Of A Bottomless Chasm, Jumping From Stone To Stone. Sometimes I Try To Leave My Narrow Path And Join The Swirling Mainstream Of Life, But I Always Find Myself Drawn Inexorably Back Towards The Chasm's Edge, And There I Shall Walk Until The Day I Finally Fall Into The Abyss.