Imagination makes you see all sorts of things.

I took back a barrel of bones to New York. They were my symbols of the desert, but nothing more. I haven't seen enough to think of any other symbolism. The skulls were there and I could say something with them.

Whether you succeed or not is irrelevant, there is no such thing. Making your unknown known is the important thing.

A flower is relatively small... Still in a way-nobody sees a flower-so I said to myself-I'll paint it big.

If only people were trees… I might like them better.

Nothing is less real than realism. Details are confusing. It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphasis, that we get at the real meaning of things.

My first memory is of the brightness of light ... light all around. I was sitting among pillows on a quilt on the ground ... very large white pillows.