I'm getting more and more isolated as I get on in years. I think people's insanity starts to slowly take over.
If I don't have a deadline, I could fuss around with stuff for forever.
There's so many bigger things in the world. The art world is such a tiny little thing compared to wars and migration crises. It's weird to be self-absorbed in it.
There's a lot of different kinds of success. I'm so dedicated to the making of the art that the rest of my life atrophies, unfortunately.
There's so much art and it's gotten so flashy. In the global marketplace, having art that's shiny and has neon lights is almost what you need for anyone to notice it in an art fair situation - and art fairs seem to be more and more the only thing there is.
I realized that I wasn't naturally born to good taste. I understand what it is, but I am happy to wear bright colors. I do have a few items of black clothing, but I think good taste and doing the same thing over and over again is what the whole art world has become.
I feel like schizoid is a precursor to schizophrenia or manic depression. I feel like I'm manic. I have parts of schizoid, parts of Asperger's. I'm a smorgasbord of neuroses.
I've had far more success than I ever expected. But I do think that a lot of successful artists have an aim to be successful, even if they don't outwardly sound like it. I never really expected success.
When you're younger, you go out and you're convivial because you have to be. But once you don't have to meet people anymore, what's your motivation in going out?
I can never remember names. I'm so self-centered and have a terrible memory.
The one thing I'm jealous of a signature-artist situation is that if you just do one thing and slight variations on it, you wouldn't have to kill yourself to get a show done. I'm sick of killing myself.
They say the one thing that people who live the longest have in common is that they have a religious belief.
One thing I noticed over time is that if I got a bad review, usually the bad part of it was at the very end. I could tell that nobody read the whole review because they would just say, "It was great to see the review!" In a way, my brain shuts down at the end of an article. It doesn't really want to go to the end.
Warhol was a prime example of a schizoid person. Maybe he had Asperger's, or maybe he was just an amorous human being on earth.
I feel like I have to avoid certain thrift store-isms, having been known for the thrift store paintings. It's like I have to not paint that way.
I'm jealous of that time when you could afford lofts and survive on almost nothing. You can't do that anymore.
