One Night I Dreamed That I Painted

In My Early Work, I Tried To Hide My Personality, My Psychological State, My Emotions. This Was Partly Due To My Feelings About Myself And Partly Due To My Feelings About Painting At The Time. I Sort Of Stuck To My Guns For A While But Eventually It Seemed Like A Losing Battle. Finally One Must Simply Drop The Reserve.

A Picture Ought To Be Looked At The Same Way You Look At A Radiator.

Make Something, A Kind Of Object, Which As It Changes Or Falls Apart (dies As It Were) Or Increases In Its Parts (grows As It Were) Offers No Clue As To What Its State Or Form Or Nature Was At Any Previous Time. Physical And Metaphysical. Obstinacy. Could This Be A Useful Object?

One Likes To Think That One Anticipates Changes In The Spaces We Inhabit, And Our Ideas About Space.

Art As A Fantasy Has Been One Of My Earliest Experiences. I Suppose A Lot Of My Childhood Was A Fantasy That Involved Getting Away From Things I Didn't Like. Fortunately It Had Some Relationship To Reality So That Later I Was Able To, To Some Extent, Act As I Imagined I Might.