Fruits ... like having their portrait painted. They seem to sit there and ask your forgiveness for fading. Their thought is given off with their perfumes. They come with all their scents, they speak of the fields they have left, the rain which has nourished them, the daybreaks they have seen.

It took me 40 years to find out that painting is not sculpture.

The truth is in nature, and I shall prove it.

When I judge art, I take my painting and put it next to a God made object like a tree or flower. If it clashes, it is not art.

The landscape becomes human, becomes a thinking, living being within me. I become one with my picture...we merge in an iridescent chaos.

Chatter about art is almost always useless.

Painting is damned difficult - you always think you've got it, but you haven't.