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Painting

“Artists Often Declare”

Artists often declare that their work comes from their unconscious. That’s an ego-proclamation, of which they are proud.

But, unlike them, there are painters – never artists – who are led to believe that the work seemingly by them is really merely through them. And they bow before it in humility, in homage.

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“Empty and Full”

I do some drippings and flingings which vaguely – very vaguely – resemble Jackson Pollock’s.

One of our many differences is that I leave considerable space, whereas he fills every inch of his canvas. Too much, I think. No plains, all mountains. Nowhere to relax and breathe.

Every inch is filled – is wondrously full, but there is no emptiness.

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“I Read Blake and Feel the Spirit”

Of all the paintings and poetry I have ever examined, Blake’s have by far the highest Life Energy, because of his devotion to the realm of the Spirit. As Catherine, his wife, said of him: “I have very little of Mr. Blake’s company; for he is always in Paradise.”

He was an emissary of the Spirit World.

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“Why Did I Paint That?”

“There are reasons of the heart of which Reason knows nothing.” 

— Pascal

Why did I paint just that, just there, just then? I don’t know. (And the less representational a painting is, the less superficial the explanation for it.)

There are reasons of the Soul of which my mind knows nothing.

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“Jackson Pollock Dances”

You might think that Jackson Pollock’s movements when flinging the paint would be awkward – even violent. But look at the films of him in action: he’s dancing! There is rhythm and flow; there is grace.

My canvas is much, much smaller – no room for my body to dance – but when I look at it, my hand always is.

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“Every Painting Is Alive!”

Yes, I am pantheistic. Everything is Spirit – is its own unique individual manifestation of The Spirit. Everything is Alive! And the more we Know this Truth, the stronger can be our relationship with It.

Every painting is Alive! Every painting projects, emanates, This into the space before it, into us in that space.

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“Now I’m Painting as a Child Again”

“The reason we find nothing to dislike in the drawings made by children is that in them the inherent nature of man finds expression without being thwarted or frustrated.”* That is to say, they are free to express their Muse, their Souls unrestrained.

 But then, “The moment children become self-conscious, their pictures degenerate.” Now they are painting not their Inner Selves, but an external object which must be portrayed “right.” Now their Souls are enchained.

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“An Homage to the Dot”

Very many of my paintings contain a dot. Some more than one, but usually just the one – the One.

The dot always comes first, placing itself seemingly as it desires. (Sometimes that’s all I do. It resonates by itself on the otherwise all-white expanse of canvas.) It is the dot that inspires all the painting to follow.

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“The Star Was My Mother”

When I was five, I was hospitalized with an illness from which it was thought I would die. (Thankfully, I was only told this many years later!) Every day as my mother turned to leave me she would start to cry, and so would I.

But one day, at that very moment, I switched on the radio beside my bed and heard a song that seemed to overcome all my fear and loneliness.

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“Three Chinese Gongshi”

In the room where I paint there are three Chinese gongshi, scholars’ rocks, as a tribute and a remembrance to my Chinese painting guides, members of the literati, the scholar-painters. It is as if I am triangulated by the Energy emanating from the rocks, from them as the rocks.

When I was in Japan, I searched for the equivalent of a Japanese scholar’s rock and found in a junkstore in Kyoto a cut-off section of an old tree root.

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