When I was twelve, I knew for certain I was a painter, as sure as I knew my name. As a result, I badgered anyone I could into sitting for me since I enjoyed drawing people the most. At first I was somewhat too honest in my rendering of subjects – one time, a woman got up in a huff, threw the portrait at me and said, “That’s terrible!” It looked just like her, as everyone told me, but that’s what she objected to. So I learned to be as flattering as I could. In my late teens, I went to Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, NY, expecting to learn some basic drawing and...more
