Be Winged Arrows Aiming At Fulfillment And

The Creation Of A Work Of Art Must Of Necessity, As A Result Of Entering Into The Specific Dimensions Of Pictorial Art, Be Accompanied By Distortion Of The Natural Form. For, Therein Is Nature Reborn.

A Certain Fire Pretends To Be Alive; It Awakens. Working Its Way Along The Hand As A Conductor, It Reaches The Support And Engulfs It; Then A Leaping Spark Closes The Circle It Was To Trace, Coming Back To The Eye And Beyond.

My Hand Has Become The Obedient Instrument Of A Remote Will.

I Paint In Order Not To Cry.

In My Productive Activity, Every Time A Type Grows Beyond The Stage Of Its Genesis, And I Have About Reached The Goal, The Intensity Gets Lost Very Quickly, And I Have To Look For New Ways.