You Come Into The World Alone And

The Memory Of Cumshewa Is Of A Great Lonesomeness Smothered In A Blur Of Rain.

Indian Art Broadened My Seeing, Loosened The Formal Tightness I Had Learned In England's Schools. Its Bigness And Stark Reality Baffled My White Man's Understanding... I Had Been Schooled To See Outsides Only, Not Struggle To Pierce.

Art Being So Much Greater Than Ourselves, It Will Not Give Up Once It Has Taken Hold.

Oh I Do Want That Thing, That Oneness Of Movement That Will Catch The Thing Up Into One Movement And Sing - Harmony Of Life.

If The Air Is Jam-full Of Sounds Which We Tune In With, Why Should It Not Also Be Full Of Feels And Smells And Things Seen Through The Spirit, Drawing Particles From Us To Them And Them To Us Like Magnets?