Content Is A Glimpse.

The Attitude That Nature Is Chaotic And That The Artist Puts Order Into It Is A Very Absurd Point Of View, I Think. All That We Can Hope For Is To Put Some Order Into Ourselves.

I Have To Change To Stay The Same.

Man's Own Form In Space - His Body - Was A Private Prison; And That It Was Because Of This Imprisoning Misery - Because He Was Hungry And Overworked And Went To A Horrid Place Called Home Late At Night In The Rain, And His Bones Ached And His Head Was Heavy.

The Drawings That Interest Me Most Are Made With Closed Eyes. With Eyes Closed, I Feel My Hand Slide Down On The Paper. I Have An Image In Mind, But The Results Always Surprise Me.

If You're An Artist, The Problem Is To Make A Picture Work Whether You Are Happy Or Not.