When I moved to Pennsylvania I was nine years old. My mom signed me up to take drawing lessons in the big barn at Historic Yellow Springs in Chester Springs, PA. Once a week (for an eternity), I showed up to draw things from life next to a few other kids who were anything but lively. For two whole hours, the teacher put us through painstaking exercises of drawing him as fire, as fruit, and from every angle imaginable. I felt completely incompetent, yet it taught me a valuable lesson as an artist. You only get out of it what you put into it. That's also when I decided I was never going to put in the time to become a portrait artist.