As a child, I loved to paint and draw, and by the time I finished high school I had decided to devote myself to the making of art. I had lovely parents who encouraged me to pursue all of my interests, although being an artist wasn’t at the top of their list. Like many parents in the 1960s, they wanted me to learn a skill for which I’d earn a good living. And, like all parents during that turbulent decade, they were appalled when I headed down the hippie path — although I was a bit young, observing it all from my suburban Chicago high school. I devoted myself to the art studio, where I remained each day after school, and enjoyed the photography classes as well.
In the space of a few years, everything seemed to change: Suddenly, there was feminism, gay liberation, civil rights, free love, cannabis, psychedelics and, of course, the music. I’m grateful to have come of age during that time and I feel a special bond with my age mates; many of us were freed from conventional expectations and pursued lives outside the mainstream.
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