The Artist Himself May Not Think He

Last Night I Dreamed That I Came Face To Face With A Picture I Had Done And Forgotten, A Forest Done In Simple Movement, Just Forms Of Trees Moving In Space. That Is The Third Time I Have Seen Pictures In My Dreams, A Glint Of What I Am Striving To Attain.

I Am Always Watching For Fear Of Getting Feeble And Passé In My Work. I Don't Want To Trickle Out. I Want To Pour Till The Pail Is Empty, The Last Bit Going Out In A Gush, Not In Drops.

You Must Be Absolutely Honest And True In The Depicting Of A Totem For Meaning Is Attached To Every Line. You Must Be Most Particular About Detail And Proportion.

My Mountain Is Dead. As Soon As She Has Dried, I'll Bury Her Under A Decent Layer Of White Paint. But I Haven't Done With The Old Lady; Far From It!

It Is Wonderful To Feel The Grandness Of Canada In The Raw, Not Because She Is Canada But Because She's Something Sublime That You Were Born Into, Some Great Rugged Power That You Are A Part Of.