Painting Seems Like Some Kind Of Peculiar

Frustration Is One Of The Great Things In Art. Satisfaction Is Nothing.

It Is Possible To Make A Living Thing, Not A Diagram Of What I Have Been Thinking: To Posit With Paint Something Living, Something That Changes Each Day.

More Than A Process, Painting Is Being Possessed.

Sometimes I Scrape Off A Lot. You Have On The Floor, Like Cow Dung In The Field, This Big Glob Of Paint... And It's Just A Lot Of Inert Matter, Inert Paint. Then I Look Back At The Canvas, And It's Not Inert - It's Active, Moving And Living.

To Will A New Form Is Unacceptable, Because Will Builds Distortion. Desire, Too, Is Incomplete And Arbitrary. These Strategies, However Intimate They Might Become, Must Especially Be Removed To Clear The Way For Something Else.