Art Is A Wound Turned Into Light.

One Day I Noticed That I Could Go On Working My Art Motif No Matter What The Weather Might Be. I No Longer Needed The Sun, For I Took My Light Everywhere With Me.

To Explain Away The Mystery Of A Great Painting - If Such A Feat Were Possible - Would Do Irreparable Harm... If There Is No Mystery, Then There Is No Poetry, The Quality I Value Above All Else In Art.

Writing Is Not Describing, Painting Is Not Depicting. Verisimilitude Is Merely An Illusion.

Art Disturbs, Science Reassures.

To Work From Nature Is To Improvise.