Drawing Is The Art Of Taking A

Color And I Are One. I Am A Painter.

We Document, Explain, Justify, Construct, Organize: These Are Good Things, But We Do Not Succeed In Coming To The Whole. But We May As Well Calm Down: Construction Is Not Absolute. Our Virtue Is This: By Cultivating The Exact We Have Laid The Foundations For A Science Of Art, Including The Unknown X.

My Self . . . Is A Dramatic Ensemble. Here A Prophetic Ancestor Makes His Appearance. Here A Brutal Hero Shouts. Here An Alcoholic Bon Vivant Argues With A Learned Professor. Here A Lyric Muse, Chronically Love-struck, Raises Her Eyes To Heaven. Her Papa Steps Forward, Uttering Pedantic Protests. Here The Indulgent Uncle Intercedes. Here The Aunt Babbles Gossip. Here The Maid Giggles Lasciviously. And I Look Upon It All With Amazement, The Sharpened Pen In My Left Hand.

Each Energy Calls For Its Complementary Energy To Achieve Self-contained Stability Based On The Play Of Energies.

One Does Not Lash Hat Lies At A Distance. The Foibles That We Ridicule Must At Least Be A Little Bit Our Own. Only Then Will The Work Be A Part Of Our Own Flesh. The Garden Must Be Weeded.