I am sometimes asked how a painting comes into being.
Where does a subject come from? What is the source of inspiration?
Most of the time, I have no clear answer. There is too much mystery in this process — too much chance, too much of the unexpected. One evening I was watching a classical concert on TV. I believe it was Mozart. And suddenly I noticed her — a young woman with a cello. I took my brushes and began to paint directly from the screen. Quietly, almost instinctively, I removed everyone else from the stage — all who distracted me. And then she remained. Not as a likeness. Not as a portrait. Do not try to recognize her — you won’t. This is not a person taken from life. What appeared on the canvas is something else: a presence, a vision, an inner form — an image touched by the soul.
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I am sometimes asked how a painting comes into being.
Where does a subject come from? What is the source of inspiration?
Most of the time, I have no clear answer. There is too much mystery in this process — too much chance, too much of the unexpected. One evening I was watching a classical concert on TV. I believe it was Mozart. And suddenly I noticed her — a young woman with a cello. I took my brushes and began to paint directly from the screen. Quietly, almost instinctively, I removed everyone else from the stage — all who distracted me. And then she remained. Not as a likeness. Not as a portrait. Do not try to recognize her — you won’t. This is not a person taken from life. What appeared on the canvas is something else: a presence, a vision, an inner form — an image touched by the soul.
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