When I was a younger man, art was a lonely thing. No galleries, no collectors, no critics, no money. Yet, it was a golden age, for we all had nothing to lose and a vision to gain. Today it is not quite the same. It is a time of tons of verbiage, activity, consumption. Which condition is better for the world at large I shall not venture to discuss. But I do know, that many of those who are driven to this life are desperately searching for those pockets of silence where we can root and grow. We must all hope we find them.

There is only one thing I fear in life, my friend: One day, the black will swallow the red.

My art is not abstract, it lives and breathes

The people that weep before my paintings are having the same religious experience that I had when I painted it.

A picture lives by companionship, expanding and quickening in the eyes of the sensitive observer

The progression of a painter’s work…will be toward clarity; toward the elimination of all obstacles between the painter and the idea, and between the idea and the observer…to achieve this clarity is, inevitably, to be understood.

We assert that the subject is crucial and only that subject matter is valid which is tragic and timeless.