I had another side to me which I am doing still here, " of writing about it"
In 1993 I started going through old note books which I suppose the "going back over" has made the cyclical form of all this writing and painting.
I go back over and find what sticks out.
I began to write it all down in phrases that started to make a rhythm and I was on my way. I'm still unsure of a voice and I don't have the authority to be sure of anything as I feel when I paint. I write and often I feel a complete fool and why I secretly let it out here and here.
Clouds, leaves, waves. was the romantic detritus of a life spent painting.
Thoughts which never cling to paint and things I wanted to say I guess be heard and to effect maybe the way one saw the paintings. It was a defense probably as I had no one else defending me. Certainly not the reserve of Jasper Johns.
I spent that year largely writing and drawing for the book.
