I Am Burning Myself Up And Will

I Shall Never Forget What I Saw At The Museum Of Modern Art: In A Spotless Schoolroom, Fifty Little Girls Painting Away At Tables Covered With Brushes, Pots, Tubes, Bowls, Staring Into Space And Sticking Out Their Tongues Like The Clever Animals That Ring A Bell, Tongues Lolling And Eyes Vague. Teachers Supervise These Young Creators Of Abstract Art And Slap Their Wrists If What They Paint Represents Something And Dangerously Inclines Toward Realism. The Mothers - Still At The Picasso Stage - Are Not Admitted.

Never Do What A Specialist Can Do Better. Discover Your Own Specialty. Do Not Despair If Your Specialty Appears To Be More Delicate, A Lesser Thing. Make Up In Finesse What You Lose In Force.

The Audience Bursts Into Laughter. With The Tragic Gag I Don't Expect The Audience To Laugh (if They Do, I Have Failed) But I Expect A Black Silence From Them That Is Almost As Violent: As Laughter.

Art Is Science In The Flesh.

Art Is Science Made Flesh.