Painting Or Poetry Is Made As One

I Begin Painting And As I Paint The Picture Begins To Assert Itself, Or Suggest Itself, Under My Brush. The Form Becomes A Sign For A Woman Or A Bird As I Work... The First Stage Is Free, Unconscious... The Second Stage Is Carefully Calculated.

Painting Or Poetry Is Made As One Makes Love - A Total Embrace, Prudence Thrown To The Winds, Nothing Held Back.

I Want To Assassinate Painting.

The Picture Should Be Fecund. It Must Bring A World To Birth.

The Painting Rises From The Brushstrokes As A Poem Rises From The Words. The Meaning Comes Later.