The surrealists and the modern movement in painting as a whole seemed to offer a key to the strange postwar world with its threat of nuclear war. The dislocations and ambiguities in cubism and abstract art as well as the surrealists reminded me of my childhood in Shanghai.

I was not out to paint beautiful pictures even painting good pictures was not important to me. I wanted only to help the truth burst forth.

My painting teacher in high school used to say 'I can't paint like I want to but through practice I'll get better.' But I don't think that's true. I think sometimes you just can't paint.

It is no use painting the foot of the tree white the strength of the bark cries out from beneath the paint.

I get strength from my art - all the paintings I own are powerful.

Nature engenders the science of painting.

Dwight is a sad clown. You've seen those paintings of sad clown.

All pictures are unnatural. All pictures are sad because they're about dead people. Paintings you don't think of in a special time or with a specific event. With photos I always think I'm looking at something dead.

I'm sickened by all religions. Religion has divided people. I don't think there's any difference between the pope wearing a large hat and parading around with a smoking purse and an African painting his face white and praying to a rock.

There was a whole language that I could never make function for myself in relationship to painting and that was attitudes like tortured struggle pain.