Is art really the priesthood that demands the pure in heart who belong to it wholly?
We live in a rainbow of chaos.
It's not just about looking and copying, it's about feeling too
I ask you to pray for me, for once age has overtaken us, we find consolation only in religion.
I have to keep working, not to arrive at finish, which arouses the admiration of fools... I must seek completion only for the pleasure of being truer and more knowing.
The landscape thinks itself in me and I am its consciousness.