Painting Seems Like Impossibility, With Only A

It Is The Bareness Of Drawing That I Like. The Act Of Drawing Is What Locates, Suggests, Discovers. At Times It Seems Enough To Draw, Without The Distractions Of Color And Mass. Yet It Is An Old Ambition To Make Drawing And Painting One.

There Are So Many Things In The World - In The Cities - So Much To See. Does Art Need To Represent This Variety And Contribute To Its Proliferation? Can Art Be That Free? The Difficulties Begin When You Understand What It Is That The Soul Will Not Permit The Hand To Make.

I Feel More As If I'm Shaping Something With My Hands. I Feel As If I've Always Wanted To Get To That State. Like A Blind Man In A Dark Room Had Some Clay, What Would He Make? I End Up With 2 Or 3 Forms On A Canvas, But It Gets Very Physical For Me.

That's What I Mean By Something Grips In A Canvas. The Moment That Happens You Are Then Sucked Into The Whole Thing. Like Some Kind Of Rhythm.

Do I Really Believe That? I Make A Mark, A Few Strokes, I Argue With Myself, Not Do I Like Or Not, But Is It True Or Not? Is That What I Mean, Is That What I Want?