Lately, there have been a number of events to indicate that no hurry for a damn thing is necessary. Also, the universe has guided me so I don't spend all my energy away from my art. When I applied for a job at a gallery, for instance, the president rejected me stating that I obviously only cared about making art.

After I found out that my apartment in New York was given up to someone else, I caught strep and schlepped three weeks in bed. At the same time I was very depressed. It occurred to me, though I was diappointed, how little I cared about not showing art in New York. I realized that it doesn't matter where I show art. It also doesn't matter if I never get famous. What matters is making art and loving my gift. It deserves that kind of love and devotion--otherwise, I really have nothing.