For me, art is like: we are mirrors and at the same time the faces in the mirror. Every painting is a mirror and a window, taking us beyond painting to question ourselves.
In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it “Because it is bitter, “And because it is my heart.”
