To me, the greatest artists are almost entirely non-verbal.

A word is a thought, of course. But any image, including a photograph, may become an instrument of sufficiently lucid cogitation.

The problem of making artists talk about their work is that when they're making their work the left-brain is shut off. So if you talk to an artist about it, you're talking to someone who wasn't there. It's hopeless.

Black and white can show how something is. Color adds how it is, imbued with temperatures and humidities of experience.

You could say that clinical depression is an incapacity to aesthetic response. It's like there's a constant agreement within ourselves, a kind of mutual understanding between ourselves and the world.

Art teachers are always the doormats of the previous generation.

A lot of writers and artists are like chefs who eat their own cooking in the kitchen and then deliver an empty plate with assurances that it's great.