Kunst Gibt Nicht Das Sichtbare Wieder, Sondern

Frightened, I Jump Up From The Bank, The Struggle Begins Anew. Bitterness Has Returned. I Am Not Pan In The Reed, I Am Merely A Human Being And Want To Climb A Few Steps, But Really Climb Them.

A Single Day Is Enough To Make Us A Little Larger Or, Another Time, A Little Smaller.

I Have A Clear View Of 12 Years Of History Of My Inner Self. First The Cramped Self, That Self With Big Blinkers, Then The Disappearance Of The Blinkers And The Self, Now Gradually The Reemergence Of A Self Without Blinkers.

In The Final Analysis, A Drawing Simply Is No Longer A Drawing, No Matter How Self-sufficient Its Execution May Be. It Is A Symbol, And The More Profoundly The Imaginary Lines Of Projection Meet Higher Dimensions, The Better.

It Is Possible That A Picture Will Move Far Away From Nature And Yet Find Its Way Back To Reality. The Faculty Of Memory, Experience At A Distance Produces Pictorial Associations.