I Put In My Pictures Everything I

I Consider A Work Of Art As A Product Of Calculations, Calculations That Are Frequently Unknown To The Author Himself.

He Was An Afghan Hound Name Kabul. Since Him I Have Had Other Afghan Hounds.... Perhaps I Am Looking For His Ghost. He Is The Only One That I Sometimes Think About. Often, If He Comes In To My Mind When I Am Working, It Alters What I Do. The Nose On The Face I Am Drawing Gets Longer And Sharper. The Hair Of The Woman I Am Sketching Gets Longer And Fluffy, Resting Against Her Cheeks Like His Ears Rested Against His Head.

I Want To Know One Thing, What Is Color?

If Only We Could Pull Out Our Brain And Use Only Our Eyes.

What Do You Think An Artist Is? An Imbecile Who Has Only His Eyes If He's A Painter, Or Ears If He's A Musician, Or A Lyre At Every Level Of His Heart If He's A Poet, Or Even, If He's A Boxer, Just His Muscles? On The Contrary, He's At The Same Time A Political Being, Constantly Alive To Heart-rending, Burning, Or Happy Events In The World.