A Prig Always Finds A

Man Seeks To Escape Himself In Myth, And Does So By Any Means At His Disposal. Drugs, Alcohol, Or Lies. Unable To Withdraw Into Himself, He Disguises Himself. Lies And Inaccuracy Give Him A Few Moments Of Comfort.

Film Will Only Became An Art When Its Materials Are As Inexpensive As Pencil And Paper.

The Poet Paul Éluard Says That To Understand My Film Version Of Beauty And The Beast, You Must Love Your Dog More Than Your Car.

I Want The Kind Of Readers Who Remain Children At Any Cost. I Can Tell Them At A Glance: Loyalty To That First Enchantment Guards Better Than Any Cosmetic; Than Any Diet, Against The Insults Of Age. But Alas For Such Readers, Who Would Huddle Safe And Sound In The Asylum Of Their Credulous Enchantment As If In The Womb-our Enervating Century Offends Them By Its Chaos, Its Fidgets Of Light And Space, The Host Of Its Excuses For Dividing , For Rending Oneself From Others And From Oneself.

When I Write, I Disturb. When I Show A Film, I Disturb. When I Exhibit My Painting, I Disturb, And I Disturb If I Don't. I Have A Knack For Disturbing.