I like all paintings. I always look at the paintings, good or bad, in barbershops, furniture stores, provincial hotels. I'm like a drinker who needs wine. As long as it is wine, it doesn't matter which wine.
I was fairly poor but most of my money went for wine and classical music. I loved to mix the two together.
Painters and poets alike have always had license to dare anything! We know that, and we both claim and allow to others in their turn this indulgence.
The one way of tolerating existence is to lose oneself in literature as in a perpetual orgy.
To me, art supplies are always okay to buy.
I can be completely indulgent and spend as many hours and days or weeks as I like on one thing. Writing music and sitting in my studio, just pottering with ideas, it's a lot more personal and creative for me, I don't feel restricted.
One does afford oneself the luxury to come into the studio and all day, every day, spend one's life making aesthetic propositions. What an immense luxury.
It's long been my dream to have myself declared incompetent so I could just practice all day, and blog, and not have to take care of any normal life things.
There is always a temptation to diddle around in the contemplative life, making itsy-bitsy statues.
Science and art are only too often a superior kind of dope, possessing this advantage over booze and morphia: that they can be indulged in with a good conscience and with the conviction that, in the process of indulging, one is leading the higher life.
