When I Paint A Person, His Enemies

Art Comes From Joy And Pain...but Mostly From Pain.

Painting Picture By Picture, I Followed The Impressions My Eye Took In At Heightened Moments. I Painted Only Memories, Adding Nothing, No Details That I Did Not See. Hence The Simplicity Of The Paintings, Their Emptiness.

Your Face Encompasses The Beauty Of The Whole Earth. Your Lips, As Red As Ripening Fruit, Gently Part As If In Pain. It Is The Smile Of A Corpse. Now The Hand Of Death Touches Life. The Chain Is Forged That Links The Thousand Families That Are Dead To The Thousand Generations To Come.

The Academies Of Art Are Nothing But Great Painting Factories - Those With Talent Are Fed In At One End, And They Come Out As Mechanical Painting Machines.

In Common With Michelangelo And Rembrandt I Am More Interested In The Line, Its Rise And Fall, Than In Color