Philip Guston

I Paint What I Want to See

Saima

There is no [underlined three times] relationship between my desires, ambitions, and the needs of a dealer! The total conformity of painting now that we see is absolutely deadening to my spirits. Its con-ventionality. Its domesticity.

American abstract art is a lie, a sham, a cover-up for a poverty of spirit. A mask to mask the fear to reveal oneself. A lie to cover up how bad one can be. Unwilling to show this badness, this rawness. It is laughable this lie. Anything but this! What a sham!

But I love the shadows, for themselves alone. My wife Musa once wrote, 'Because the sun was behind them, their shadows came first, and then the birds themselves .'

I was on a panel once, sort of a popular panel, and someone asked the question about artists in society and so on, talking about support. I mean, real sup- port, moral support. Would Van Gogh have painted if he'd been all alone, if he had nobody to support him? And I answered that he couldn't have. He had to have Theo, his brother. It occurred to me that it would be impossible. I mean, you'd have to be insane, like the man who says he's Napoleon. So I had Morty. I guess there are some other people, but I don't know about a lot of other people. But, in this Sense, I need Feldman to tell me I'm not insane. He has a way of seeing which always more than fascinates me. I mean, it really involves me, how he sees. So that when I finish a painting, I call immediately.

Sticks of wood behind a brick wall.Graining. 

You can wreck your painting that you believe in by examining it- dispel its magic - its spell lost. Advice to myself: leave it alone. It should be able to live by itself.

De Chirico's thought was not willed. It was so per- fectly balanced that his forms never seem to have been painted. His walls and shadows, his trains and cookies. his manikins, clocks, blackboards, and smoke. They could all disappear. Yet they appeared. They have known each other for centuries. De Chirico drew aside his curtain, revealing what was always there. It had been forgotten.

If I speak of having a subject to paint, I mean there is a forgotten place of beings and things, which I need to remember. I want to see this place. I paint what I want to see.

I Paint What I Want to See

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