I Would Like To Try To Understand

Family Photos, Pictures Of Groups, Those Are Truely Wonderful. And They Are Just As Good As The Old Masters, Just As Rich And Just As Beautifully Composed (what Does That Mean Anyway).

To Talk About Paintings Is Not Only Difficult But Perhaps Pointless Too. You Can Only Express In Words What Words Are Capable Of Expressing-- What Language Can Communicate. Painting Has Nothing To Do With That.

Illusion - Or Rather Appearance, Semblance - Is The Theme Of My Life (could Be Theme Of Speech Welcoming Freshmen To The Academy). All That Is, Seems, And Is Visible To Us Because We Perceive It By The Reflected Light Of Semblance. Nothing Else Is Visible.

There Is Sorrow, But I Hope One Can See That It Is Sorrow For The People Who Died So Young And So Crazy, For Nothing. I Have Respect For Them, But Also For Their Wishes, Or For The Power Of Their Wishes. Because They Tried To Change The Stupid Things In The World.

Without Form, Communication Stops... Without Form, You Have Everybody Burbling On To Themselves, Whenever And However, Things That No One Else Can Understand And - Rightly - No One Else Is Interested In.