“And starts spreading that old gospel according to Hyperbole. No questions asked… And thus the bill of goods is sold, all along the line.”

An art historical snake, swallowing its own tale.

The art world is now a fashion industry, led by its Whitney Biennial ‘nose for the new look.’ But nobody, it seems, has the guts or the brains to blow the necessary whistle and holler

Somewhere in my head, a private conviction exists that ‘Search is the Process’ and ‘Discovery the Art Form.

By and large, the making of serious, thoughtful and occasionally valuable art has become a lonely persuasion, while the marketing of art has become a boutique operation

The search which takes place in my studio might best be described as a mining operation, a vertical dig in which a number of discoveries are apt to surface from a single shaft.

Manipulated by fashion, self-serving art scholars and the vagaries of the auction block.

It is essential for me to become involved in another search, and ‘search’ is the proper word to use because it promises discovery along with the risk.

I advise students on the subject of color as follows: If it looks good enough to eat, use it.

Every time some new huckster of angst-ridden metaphor is appointed by Art Forum, the congregation genuflects, stroking the catalog like a handful of Rosary beads

Hold on guys! What the hell is this ugly bit of business?

Collage-making, for me, is basically an act of painting, allowing me to indulge in an appetite for immediacy.

I return my tax bill without paying it. My reason for doing so is that women suffer taxation yet have not representation.

Why, in a country of free speech, are there phone bills?

I still live as normal a life as anybody else. I have two homes to run. I have my staff to take care of. I work, pay bills and attend society meetings like everybody else.

A little less complaint and whining, and a little more dogged work and manly striving, would do us more credit than a thousand civil rights bills.

A little less complaint and whining, and a little more dogged work and manly striving, would do us more credit than a thousand civil rights bills.

A little less complaint and whining, and a little more dogged work and manly striving, would do us more credit than a thousand civil rights bills.

I make money because I have to pay for everything apart from my school fees. My mother even makes me pay my own telephone bill.

I think I’ve been around for a while. But I still have to pay my dues.