I Do Not See Why The Loss

Usually I Draw In Relation To My Painting, What I Am Working On At The Time. On A Lucky Day A Surprising Balance Of Forms And Spaces Will Appear... Making Itself, The Image Taking Hold. This In Turn Moves Me Toward Painting - Anxious To Get To The Same Place, With The Actuality Of Paint And Light.

Painting Seems Like Some Kind Of Peculiar Miracle That I Need To Have Again And Again.

It Is The Bareness Of Drawing That I Like. The Act Of Drawing Is What Locates, Suggests, Discovers. At Times It Seems Enough To Draw, Without The Distractions Of Color And Mass. Yet It Is An Old Ambition To Make Drawing And Painting One.

I Feel More As If I'm Shaping Something With My Hands. I Feel As If I've Always Wanted To Get To That State. Like A Blind Man In A Dark Room Had Some Clay, What Would He Make? I End Up With 2 Or 3 Forms On A Canvas, But It Gets Very Physical For Me.

What Is Seen And Called The Picture Is What Remains - An Evidence. Even As One Travels In Painting Toward A State Of 'unfreedom' Where Only Certain Things Can Happen, Unaccountably The Unknown And Free Must Appear.