Painting Is An Illusion, A Piece Of

There's Some Mysterious Process At Work Here, Which I Don't Even Want To Understand.

There Are So Many Things In The World - In The Cities - So Much To See. Does Art Need To Represent This Variety And Contribute To Its Proliferation? Can Art Be That Free? The Difficulties Begin When You Understand What It Is That The Soul Will Not Permit The Hand To Make.

Painting Seems Like Some Kind Of Peculiar Miracle That I Need To Have Again And Again.

More Than A Process, Painting Is Being Possessed.

Do I Really Believe That? I Make A Mark, A Few Strokes, I Argue With Myself, Not Do I Like Or Not, But Is It True Or Not? Is That What I Mean, Is That What I Want?