I adore the theater and I am a painter. I think the two are made for a marriage of love. I will give all my soul to prove this once more.
Great art picks up where nature ends.
I work in whatever medium likes me at the moment.
One fine day (but all days are fine!) as my mother was putting the bread in the oven, I went up to her and taking her by her flour-smeared elbow I said to her, “Mama … I want to be a painter.”
When I am finishing a picture I hold some God-made object up to it—a rock, a flower, the branch of a tree or my hand—as a kind of final test. If the painting stands up beside a thing man cannot make, the painting is authentic. If there’s a clash between the two, it is bad art.