I had built-up inspiration from studying, and I made in some hours these peaches.

Learning from the early feminists, Virginia Woolf.

Not only have I chosen to paint peaches because the woman I loved told me that when I would stop painting women, but also because I am going to start using a new rougher paper, and I’ve chosen something easy.

And when I sent a photo to a woman I once loved, she said, ‘When will you stop painting women?’ and the disappointment I felt was great.

A reflection. I’ve heard actors and singers say that stage fright never really disappears before a performance. And I wonder whether there is an equivalent feeling for a painter. One idea I propose is the sensation I feel when I’m almost finished with a form—whether it’s the background or a part of the whole, for example a piece of fruit. Then I think: “What if I make a mistake? Will it be so noticeable that the focus of attention will become that error?” Sometimes it has happened. And it may be that one of the reasons I paint so much is to have paintings without mistakes that represent me. A few of them come to mind.

When I see the blank paper and I’m ready to draw, I feel a warmth through my body, like when I’m alone with my pet and sense a special connection.

One day my friend and I needed to get away from the city, so we took a train and climbed up that rock to watch the sunset.

Pink wood.

My wall.

On a wall of a room.