Pearl Paint, Canal Street. First time (1980s). I was like a child in a candy store — infinite paint, infinite canvas, brushes. I didn’t know where to go first.
The first thing I grabbed was a sketchbook and a pen with a nice sharp tip. Then my basket kept getting full.
And you know what I realized, standing in the middle of that store? I was changing. Changing to fit the environment — Manhattan, Pratt, learning from people exploring the meaning of art.
It felt exhilarating.
To be honest, it didn’t always feel good. My allergies kicked in. I was sick on and off a good portion of my time at Pratt. At the time I chalked it up to: typical allergies.
Looking back, I know what it really was. I had to let go of things that had been bestowed on me — my parents, my school, my religion, the society I’d lived so nice and tightly within. That costs the body something.
No one is watching over me. I am in control of myself. I have agency. I have to make up my own mind which direction to go.
So I’ll leave you at the fork in the road, not the answer: when you’re standing there — which way did you go? How did your life change, from the very beginning of your own awareness?