Such a strict intention is all very well, but does not alter the fact that I fail, that even my best work falls far short of what I hoped for it. Between the inspiration and the execution, I find, is the impossible. And also the exasperation.

I always say, hoping to protect a composure which frustration sometimes threatens to annihilate. Making art fills me with wonder, and I thank the Lord for the privilege of doing it. Nevertheless, I have not found it easy to become accustomed to the system of blunders and floundering which I am apparently obliged to practice.

Owing to the exacting nature of my work, artists and others sometimes accuse me of being patient. Obviously this is not true; it is only that I have not found a quicker way to paint which will still yield the results that I struggle for. Patience is certainly a commendable quality, and I am in a great hurry to obtain it. Since I am dependent on the Lord to lead me in this work, however, I progress only when I proceed according to His timing, and His timing is often different, and almost invariably, it seems, slower than mine. Art, like so many other things:

I seem to have lost touch with the contemporary art scene and am largely ignorant of current developments. Still, I enjoy fantasizing an occasional avant-gardism. Consider for example, the merits of wrapping Christo in 21 miles of electric blanket.

Egoism in art is anathema to me, because ego focuses on the creation rather than the Creator, and because it diverts me into aesthetic dead ends from the moment I begin to respond to its blandishments. Egoism is an indulgence which perverts and diminishes the creative process. I do not need ego, or to express myself, or to be "the little train that could" to make the decisions which may lead to a beautiful painting: I need prayer and perspiration.

Every painting is a series of emergencies building to a central crisis. The crisis is this: will the work become a painting - or not? Pushing a piece through to completion requires faith - and much persistence. But an artist must maintain a delicate balance: there is a point past which tenacity becomes willfulness. I know: I often pass it on the way to futility, trying to continue working when it would be better to put my brushes down and find something else to do. But no matter; paintings are completed by grace, not belligerence.