Suddenly I heard the sound; it was
the sacred whispers. The whispers
come to me from the land, the
sky and the sea, and often they
urge me to be still. Above all,
the whispers signal change.
If only he could work faster.Yet if he did work faster, how could he produce paintings grounded in deep beds of contemplation, the only way living things could be stilled long enough to understand them?And wasn't everything he painted--a breadbasket, a pitcher, a jewelry box, a copper pan--wasn’t it all living?