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Images...
They infect me, they haunt me, they move summers inside my mind! The human
form is beautiful, complex, provocative and for me, perfect. My artists' eye
roams about the mesas of the mouth, the turnpike brow, memorizing every
molecule. I prefer not to use models, the forms I paint come from those
quiet, library-like rooms inside of me where images are kept. Only when I am
sad, or when I don't have the strength to stand in the sun does the image flow
out of me. My jewel, my plague.
