Painting Seems Like Impossibility, With Only A

More Than A Process, Painting Is Being Possessed.

To Will A New Form Is Unacceptable, Because Will Builds Distortion. Desire, Too, Is Incomplete And Arbitrary. These Strategies, However Intimate They Might Become, Must Especially Be Removed To Clear The Way For Something Else.

I Do Not See Why The Loss Of Faith In The Known Image And Symbol In Our Time Should Be Celebrated As A Freedom. It Is A Loss From Which We Suffer, And This Pathos Motivates Modern Painting And Poetry At Its Heart.

Painting Is An Illusion, A Piece Of Magic, So What You See Is Not What You See. I Don't Know What A Painting Is; Who Knows What Sets Off Even The Desire To Paint? It Might Be Things, Thoughts, A Memory, Sensations, Which Have Nothing To Do Directly With Painting Itself. They Can Come From Anything And Anywhere.

I Am A Night Painter, So When I Come Into The Studio The Next Morning The Delirium Is Over.