I feel such eagerness to get to it, to get to where I'm going in my work, but in order to get there, I must go through what I am going through, I cannot just skip ahead, I cannot get there without getting there, step by sometimes laborious step, painting by painting, making paintings that are not, I think, where I am going, but only where I am. My vision of what I am getting to is hidden behind a dense fog (that is to say, I have no vision, only the dimmest awareness that one exists, that somewhere inside that fog, there is something, I do not know what it looks like!); it will come clearer the nearer I get to it. In the meantime, I must do what I am doing in order to get there, knowing that I am not, perhaps, even close to arriving at clarity, but not knowing this too, for perhaps I am closer than I think. Or—this is also a possibility, though not a happy one—perhaps I will never get there, perhaps this dim awareness I have of what it is I am driving for will remain forever elusive, out of reach and outside comprehension. That is a possibility, and an unhappy one. What is not possible is that I have already arrived, I cannot think this is possible!, for I am fighting too fierce a fight, and if I am not fighting for some undefined but vaguely sensed eventuality, but rather for something that already exists yet does not satisfy, then I am fighting a fight that not only can I never win, but that I have already lost, staying in the ring long after I am bloodied and defeated, and I do not think I am that stupid. I am foolish and oftentimes very foolish and imprudent, and at times I can even be obtuse, but I am rarely if ever stupid. Well, I was stupid when I did things 1, 2 and 3, etc., but I am not stupid. It is a lifelong force that drives me, and I am wise to trust in it, even if I am essentially blind and using my hands as feelers and that is how I am making my way toward where I am going, even if that is true!