The Painter Should Not Paint What He

My Hand Has Become The Obedient Instrument Of A Remote Will.

Light And The Rational Forms Are Locked In Combat; Light Sets Them Into Motion, Bends What Is Straight, Makes Parallels Oval, Inscribes Circles In The Intervals, Makes The Intervals Active.

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

We Construct And Keep On Constructing, Yet Intuition Is Still A Good Thing.

...a Long Struggle Lies In Store For Me In This Field Of Color.