Since I cannot sing, I paint.

You get whatever accomplishment you are willing to declare.

I long ago came to the conclusion that even if I could put down accurately the thing I saw and enjoyed, it would not give the observer the kind of feeling it gave me. I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at-not copy it.

I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge scale, you could not ignore its beauty.

I'd been taught to paint like other people, and I thought, what's the use? I couldn't do any better than they, or even as well. I was just adding to the brushpile. So I quit.

God told me if I painted that mountain enough, I could have it.

There's something about black. You feel hidden away in it.