To Me Art Is An Adventure Into

I Am Here To Make You Think. . . . I Am Not Here To Make Pretty Pictures!

Look, It's My Misery That I Have To Paint This Kind Of Painting, It's Your Misery That You Have To Love It, And The Price Of The Misery Is Thirteen Hundred And Fifty Dollars.

It Is The Poet And Philosopher Who Provide The Community Of Objectives In Which The Artist Participates. Their Chief Preoccupation, Like The Artist, Is The Expression In Concrete Form Of Their Notions Of Reality. Like Him, They Deal With The Verities Of Time And Space, Life And Death, And The Heights Of Exaltation As Well As The Depths Of Despair. The Preoccupation With These Eternal Problems Creates A Common Ground Which Transcends The Disparity In The Means Used To Achieve Them.

Art To Me Is An Anecdote Of The Spirit.

And Last, It May Be Worthwhile Trying To Hang Something Beyond The Partial Wall Because Some Of The Pictures Do Very Well In A Confined Space.