Art is a wicked thing. It is what we are.

I often painted fragments of things because it seemed to make my statement as well as or better than the whole could.

I decided to accept as true my own thinking.

The clean clear colours were in my head. But one day as I looked at the brown burned wood of the Shanty, I thought 'I can paint one of those dismal-coloured paintings like the men. I think just for fun I will try - all low-toned and dreary with the tree besides the door.' In my next show, 'The Shanty' went up. The men seemed to approve of it. They seemed to think that maybe I was beginning to paint. That was my only low-toned dismal-coloured painting.

I am trying with all my skill to do a painting that is all woman, as well as all of me.

My first memory is of the brightness of light — light all around.

I made you take time to look at what I saw and when you took time to really notice my flower, you hung all your associations with flowers on my flower and you write about my flower as if I think and see what you think and see—and I don't.