When we were sitting at Lloyd Goodrich's 1964 exhibition he'd come and look at people ("why do they come here, I wonder? What passes through their minds?") and I'd try to get him to tlk about the pictures. He finally offered one statement about his intentions: "Each picture is an instant in tme, arrested, and acutely realized with the utmost intensity." That first was time he'd mentioned the dimention of time. It also summed up the projection of the image outward in that dream of conceptual ease to which his method aspired.
He would have looked at all of us there, I imagine, with curiousty and in silence. He would have been somewhere up there in the center of a row, trying to be, in what I think was one of his dearest wishes, invisible.
Brian O'Doherty on Edward Hopper, in the article Six who knew Hopper