From my earliest memories, my aunt was squirting out oil paint. I could just eat it. I would go from her studio and walk down to my father's house, and there he was, working in egg tempera.
I have copies of the books my grandfather illustrated for Scribner's in each house. I read those books all the time.
I mostly paint animals I'm familiar with, but I did a series of paintings of ravens, so I read everything about them.
I'm a terrible technician, and I have a very hard time painting.
My sketchbooks are usually just a line on one page or a circle, which to most people must be totally meaningless. But to me, they are very important to the thing I am working on.
I never knew my grandfather. He died the year before I was born. But as a child, he did, of course, those wonderful illustrations, 'Treasure Island,' and whatnot.
I'm a very strange painter. I don't wake up one day and say, 'God, isn't this a fantastic day, I'd better get out and paint!' I think my father's more that way, because he's very fast.
I immediately doubt things if I become satisfied with them. Being satisfied by something is a real danger for me. I hope I never lose that. That would be death.
I view anything on this farm as model. I actually painted Union Rags as a yearling.
Painting is such an individual profession. I'm not performing. There's no audience.
