Clever people think and do things with a cool head.
Then, somebody like me will use mental energy [kiryoku].

How exciting it will be if I can immediately put an idea
in practice, as it comes to me, without worrying about
the result—throwing all of my past pesky hesitation
out of the window.

I want to paint as though rushing around a battlefield,
exerting myself to collapse from exhaustion.

What is thus created will be force-fed to the viewer;
it is too facile if it is offered to be savored.

The moment I get an electric massager, I want to paint
with it. The moment I get a rubber ball, I want to paint
by throwing it at canvas.

This sentiment can be well expressed by painting with
hands, scratching and slapping with them—with the
hands capable of manifesting a physical act most
aptly among human organs. Or, by just gliding around
in a mud of paint.

In fact, it will be OK even if I paint merely to understand the feeling of falling down into an armchair after
throwing away the prim, convenient, yet flimsy easel,
nailing the canvas to the wall, and frantically slashing
it until I am worn out and drenched with sweat, with
my heart almost exploding.

Why on earth is there a profession called “painter”?
All I want is to paint. Isn’t it better to earn a living by
doing something else?

The gallery is a place to show paintings—not to
sell paintings.

This is what my irrational nature makes me think all
the time.