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My problem was my future and his problem was kids screaming names outside his studio. I gave him some advice of his problem and he paid no particular attention to mine whatsoever. He was mostly mad at the neighborhood kids who were hassling him no end, because they knew that they could get his goat. I had similar potential problems on Winfield, which were obviated by interaction and kid psychology.
I took a drawing/painting class at City College and showed my little picturettes to my teacher. He did not seem impressed, and I got not a word of endearment there either. I thought - so he must not think much of them, but still one could discuss it, at least terms of technique if nothing else. So I had to go it alone. I built a big easel of two by fours. There was a small room with high ceiling, the whole flat had ceilings of twelve feet, and lots of windows. The room was an add-on to the back of the kitchen on the east side. I made that my painting studio.
Out behind the house was a big back yard the width of the house, and deep going way back. We inherited three or four farm ducks from the people who lived there before. Of course it came about that I had to take care of them. I believe I converted a large plastic blowup children's wading pool, which was already there, piling dirt all around the sides, for the ducks to access and swim. It wasn't long, a month or two, before I found one duck dead in the garden one morning. Couldn't figure out what had killed it. Was thinking rats. I remember discussing the problem with everyone I knew.
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