My only formal art training came in fifth grade. Every week, my teacher, Mr. Amble, wheeled in a television set, turned it on, and, alongside artist Bruce McIntyre, we’d draw. For me, it was the highlight of elementary school. One day, my teacher announced that Mr. McIntyre would be visiting our classroom in person, and that if we brought five dollars that day, we could buy a copy of his book. I began saving immediately. On the big day, I arrived at school early with sharp pencils and no money. I had forgotten it at home. I was devastated. At the end of the presentation, my teacher and Mr. McIntyre walked up to me. Mr. McIntyre handed me a copy of his drawing book and said, “Your teacher thinks you’re going to need this.” Turns out, I did.
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