I’ve never wanted to be a designer although I’ve always designed things.  Until the moment came where the only option seemed to be to produce my artwork as home decor, I had no idea that I could. I studied at Parsons School of Design in New York, and on most levels, I did not belong there.  I’m the kind of artist who complains about how others drink too much coffee, in fashionable cafes, glamorously attired; when they should be getting dirty in rags made divine by draping the hands of creation within the walls of their studios.  In school, the designers were so career driven, industrious and tidy.  When they drew a grid, they laid it out with rulers, stainless steel straight edges and portable right angles.  I eyeballed it and used whatever book, magazine and edge might work.  And ohhhhhh how they could present themselves.  The were living, breathing marketability with complete portfolio and elevator pitch exhaled and revealed on a moment’s notice.

That’s still not me although I do appreciate that most of my lines are as clean as theirs.