My Art Is Not Abstract, It Lives

(i Am) Dealing Not With The Particular Anecdote, But Rather With The Spirit Of Myth, Which Is Generic To All Myths At All Times.

A Picture Lives By Companionship, Expanding And Quickening In The Eyes Of The Sensitive Observer. It Dies By The Same Token. It Is Therefore Risky To Send It Out Into The World. How Often It Must Be Impaired By The Eyes Of The Unfeeling And The Cruelty Of The Impotent.

And Last, It May Be Worthwhile Trying To Hang Something Beyond The Partial Wall Because Some Of The Pictures Do Very Well In A Confined Space.

Art To Me Is An Anecdote Of The Spirit, And The Only Means Of Making Concrete The Purpose Of Its Varied Quickness And Stillness.

The Most Interesting Painting Is One That Expresses More Of What One Thinks Than Of What One Sees