At the ripe age of 3, my parents carried me off to an old man's office in New York. 

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At least, that was what I thought it was. It turns out the office was a studio that belonged to an artist. I crawled in and saw a long-white bearded man sitting atop a barber's chair. My parents sat me down in front of him. I didn't really think much of this, because I was 3, but I do remember it clear as day or should I say clear as studio?  I dunno. Anyways...

 

 

 

 

My parents left to run an errand, and this stranger began scribbling something on a napkin in front of me.  When finished, he showed me a line-drawing that I suppose represented me, but what did I know? I was 3. Along with this, he showed me little tricks of line on how to draw simple birds and trees. His drawings were VERY minimalist. But I didn't know anything of minimalist back then, all I knew was that it was magic. Because I was 3, you see.

 

 

 

This old man gave me the drawing, and I put it in the back  pocket of my little Osh Kosh B'Gosh jeans. All the while, my parents never having known. Eventually, my parents returned and I went home never to see this man again. I still have this small drawing on my walls today.  "Of course, now, I can see the mastery of this artwork created on the spot. It was my first caricature. And it was the inspiration for me to draw.