No Critic Writing About A

The Visionary Is The Only Realist.

What's Important Is The Way We Say It. Art Is All About Craftsmanship. Others Can Interpret Craftsmanship As Style If They Wish. Style Is What Unites Memory Or Recollection, Ideology, Sentiment, Nostalgia, Presentiment, To The Way We Express All That. It's Not What We Say But How We Say It That Matters.

Reality! But What Does This Word Mean? Each Has His Own Reality. I Draw Upon My Personal Reality Upon The Dark Side Of Myself, My Unconscious.

Money Is Everywhere But So Is Poetry. What We Lack Are The Poets.

Objects And Their Functions No Longer Had Any Significance. All I Perceived Was Perception Itself, The Hell Of Forms And Figures Devoid Of Human Emotion And Detached From The Reality Of My Unreal Environment. I Was An Instrument In A Virtual World That Constantly Renewed Its Own Meaningless Image In A Living World That Was Itself Perceived Outside Of Nature. And Since The Appearance Of Things Was No Longer Definitive But Limitless, This Paradisiacal Awareness Freed Me From The Reality External To Myself. The Fire And The Rose, As It Were, Became One.