The Key Is What Is Within The

In The Late 30s The Name Pollock Was Totally Unknown And Unheard Of.

Painting, For Me, When It Really 'happens,' Is As Miraculous As Any Natural Phenomenon - As Say, A Lettuce Leaf. By 'happens,' I Mean The Painting In Which The Inner Aspect Of Man And His Outer Aspects Interlock.

One Could Go On For Ever As To Whether The Paint Should Be Thick Or Thin, Whether To Paint The Woman Or The Square, Hard-edge Or Soft, But After A While Such Questions Become A Bore. They Are Merely Problems In Aesthetics, Having Only To Do With The Outer Man.

We Get Used To A Certain Kind Of Colour Of Form Or Format, And It's Acceptable. And To Puncture That Is Sticking Your Neck Out A Bit. And Then Pretty Soon, That's Very Acceptable.

I Never Violate An Inner Rhythm. I Loathe To Force Anything. I Don't Know If The Inner Rhythm Is Eastern Or Western. I Know It Is Essential For Me. I Listen To It And I Stay With It. I Have Always Been This Way. I Have Regards For The Inner Voice.