Monday, December 20, 2010


When I was six, fine art meant anything I touched with my baby hands, My finger-paintings, sparkly pine cones, ceramic hand prints, maccaroni Christmas ornaments and family portraits were held in high regard. When you're little, beauty  really is in the eye of your beholders, and everything that glitters is gold.

One day, I decided to take some magic markers and fully color both my legs. I considered myself a masterpiece. When my mother asked me about what I'd done, I told her I didn't know, but I was sad to see my work turn the bathwater brown and piroutte down the drain.

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