I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.
I don't really have studios. I wander around around people's attics, out in fields, in cellars, anyplace I find that invites me.
If you clean it up, get analytical, all the subtle joy and emotion you felt in the first place goes flying out the window.
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.
Not so cold, some snow fell. I went inside the log cabin and said goodbye to Mother, she was so alike grandmother, just younger.
Your job is to focus on my personal happiness, she said, & I've got big plans, so break time is over.
If you're right & I'm not, I'm going to be hell to live with, she said. So, you better think about that next time you want to be right.
He loved her for almost everything she was & she decided that was enough to let him stay for a very long time.
I have a renewed commitment to elegance, she said, in case you think I'm just spending money for the fun of it.
What I'm mostly good at is sleeping, he once told me in confidence, but he added, I don't see much future in it.
Gramacho is the last landfill that allows people in. Brazil is the leading nation in recycling due to its poverty. There are people there surviving from what they find in the garbage.
Humanity is mediocre. The majority of women are neither superior nor inferior to the majority of men. They are all equal. They all merit the same scorn.
You can always draw as well as you know how to. I flatter myself that I feel more than I express on canvas; but I know that is not so.
I don't like persuaded sitters. I never could paint a cat if the cat had any scruples, religious, superstitious, or otherwise, about sitting.
How are things visible? Can you see an egg against a white background? Not by drawing a line around it can you make it evident.
Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the harmonies, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another, to cause vibrations in the soul.
As a kid, I lived in a fantasy world. I used to believe ants could talk. Not once did they say thank you.
Look, we're all saddled with things that make us better or worse. This world is a crazy place, and I've chosen to make my work about that insanity.
I want people to be drawn into the space of the work. And a lot of people are like me in that they have relatively short attention spans. So I shoot for the window of opportunity.
As a painter today you have to work without that essential platform. But if one does not deceive oneself and accepts this lack of certainty, other things may come into play.
You can't do a machine without knowing something about how it's going to work. As for the romantics, the costumes bored me and I don't enjoy doing period clothes.
