I don’t really have studios. I wander around around people’s attics, out in fields, in cellars, anyplace I find that invites me.
I dream a lot. I do more painting when I’m not painting. It’s in the subconscious.
I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn’t show.
It’s all in how you arrange the thing… the careful balance of the design is the motion.
I’m a secretive bastard. I would never let anybody watch me painting… it would be like somebody watching you have sex – painting is that personal to me.
One’s art goes as far and as deep as one’s love goes.
If you clean it up, get analytical, all the subtle joy and emotion you felt in the first place goes flying out the window.
Artists today think of everything they do as a work of art. It is important to forget about what you are doing – then a work of art may happen.
I search for the realness, the real feeling of a subject, all the texture around it… I always want to see the third dimension of something… I want to come alive with the object.
To be interested solely in technique would be a very superficial thing to me.
It’s a moment that I’m after, a fleeting moment, but not a frozen moment.
I surrendered to a world of my imagination, reenacting all those wonderful tales my father would read aloud to me. I became a very active reader, especially history and Shakespeare.
I love to study the many things that grow below the corn stalks and bring them back to the studio to study the color. If one could only catch that true color of nature – the very thought of it drives me mad.
I can’t work completely out of my imagination. I must put my foot in a bit of truth; and then I can fly free.
At 18 I began painting steadily fulltime and at age 20 had my first New York show at the Macbeth Gallery.
To have all your life’s work and to have them along the wall, it’s like walking in with no clothes on. It’s terrible.