“The trip with Frank in the summer of 1940 made me a better painter. It did not much enlarge my technical ability; it sharpened my sentience of things seen, and things beyond seeing. After I got home I kept thinking about El Randado, the ruins of the old horse ranch in the brush of South Texas, where proud splendid Spanish horses once were bred and where now there was nothing but dust and silence, crumbled walls and a dry horse tank. My feeling about being there, standing there alone in the sharp flat sunlight not crying but feeling like it, was not reachable by any draftsman’s line I could draw or by any color I could mix on a palette. The feeling would not be described by painted contours of visibly presented forms, it had to be enclosed by words. I tried to write what I could not paint…


What I wrote was perhaps half-poem, it may be half-alligator, English splotched with Spanish – but it was the first opening I glimpsed into the joys and sorrows of trying to find the just word, the exact sound, to speak the heart on a sheet of paper.


Naturally I could not resist making a few drawings to go with the few pages of words when they were done. I showed my effort to Carl Hertzog who printed it handsomely, a thin booklet titled Randado, in an edition of one hundred copies dated February, 1941; it was the first work of mine to appear in print containing text and illustrations by the same hand.” (A Picture Gallery, Brown and Company, 1968, pp. 40-41).