I think we must start by agreeing that the function of visual art is to convey an infinite number and variety of human thoughts into an infinite number and variety of images. The image has to pass thru the artist’s conciseness before it can be articulated. Where does the image comes from? There is such a thing as unconditional expression that does not come from self or other. It manifests out of nowhere like mushrooms in a meadow, like hailstorms, like thunderstorms. Contending with this unknown, possessed by it in fact, the artist puts himself on the imagistic frontier, out into that unknown, taking a piece of it and transforming that piece into a mythological image. Not knowing exactly what he is doing the artist, guided by intuition, contends with something not understood, in order to make it more understandable. We gaze at artwork, begin to become informed by it, but we don’t know why. The unknown shining through it, at us...

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