I began drawing at 3 and ½ years old. As I got into school, my work started getting noticed. When I was around 11 years old, the principal of P.S. 91 thought I was so good that he said he would give me a room all to myself to paint all day. I liked the idea but said I would miss my friends. I actually enjoyed my studies.

About that time, I came down with pneumonia. I had to stay home for quite a while. While I was convalescing, my father brought home a folding easel, with a complete set of paints. For weeks I would come home, drink a whole quart of milk from a glass bottle, and begin working. My mother, who ordinarily was playing cards and fighting with her sisters, stayed around as I was painting. She enjoyed being my critic. It was very encouraging.

Everything. If I’m stuck somewhere I can make something interesting. Because life is interesting.

That is a puzzle. You have to love doing it. And you have to believe you are good at it. It came easily to me to draw and to paint. Anything I did on paper was exciting to me. I knew that women never showed their abilities the way male artists did. I didn’t care. Do it only if you love it more than money. You have to do it and don’t give a damn.

I don’t think, I start. See this painting (points to a striking abstract of vivid color), I don’t remember painting it. I start out by thinking of the rules. Then the whole rest of the process is about breaking the rules. That is the originality. Ultimately there are no rules.

It has to touch you. I stand in front of the canvas, dip the brush, put the color, step back (out of the zone). I ask, what is this? What did I just do? When you step back that’s when the eye adjusts to a lot of things. When I’m stuck, that’s when I step back. If it’s not working, I try my best to get it to work. I like to be very forceful in the painting.