My turmoil of mind was such... «Art Objects: Essays on Ecstasy and Effrontery»

My turmoil of mind was such that I could only find a kind of peace by attempting to determine the size of the problem. My problem. The paintings were perfectly at ease. I had fallen in love and I had no language. I was dogdumb. The usual response of 'This painting has nothing to say to me' had become 'I have nothing to say to this painting'.