This race is never grateful: from the first, One fills their cup at supper with pure wine, Which back they give at cross-time on a sponge, In bitter vinegar.
I often use colour to attack form, to break it down a little or begin to dissolve it. But I am not at all interested in 'pure' colour or in colour as a transcendental presence. . . So if I use colours to begin to dissolve forms, I also use forms to prevent colours becoming entirely detached from their everyday existence.