To have all your life’s work and to have them along the wall, it’s like walking in with no clothes on. It’s terrible.

I think you have to use your eyes as well as your emotion, and one without the other just doesn’t work.

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure in the landscape – the loneliness of it – the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it – the whole story doesn’t show.

I’ve never studied the Japanese. That’s something that must have crept in there. But the Japanese are my biggest clients. They seem to like the elemental quality.

To be interested solely in technique would be a very superficial thing to me. If I have an emotion, before I die, that’s deeper than any emotion that I’ve ever had, then I will paint a more powerful picture that will have nothing to do with just technique, but will go beyond it.

I wanted to get it all down, maybe out of my system. I wanted to be able to say, Everything’s possible-if you believe and can get excited.

I can’t work completely out of my imagination-I must put my foot in a bit of truth-and then I can fly free.

I don’t really have studios. I wander around around people’s attics, out in fields, in cellars, anyplace I find that invites me.

My pencil is like a fencer’s foil.

My struggle is to preserve that abstract flash – like something you caught out of the corner of your eye, but in the picture you can look at it directly.