I Would Like To Paint The Way

I Get Madder And Madder On Giving Back What I Feel.

I Waited For The Idea To Consolidate, For The Grouping And Composition Of Themes To Settle Themselves In My Brain.

I Am Enslaved To My Work, Always Wanting The Impossible, And Never, I Believe, Have I Been Less Favoured By The Endlessly Changeable Weather.

If Only The Weather Would Improve, There'd Be Hope Of Some Work, But Every Day Brings Rain.

I've Done What I Could As A Painter And That Seems To Me To Be Sufficient. I Don't Want To Be Compared To The Great Masters Of The Past, And My Painting Is Open To Criticism; That's Enough.