Why I went to art school. There was a guy in my art class that flunked on purpose. He drew women that looked like The Hulk. They eventually passed him. He confessed to me that he loved drawing nude models. Scott was a bitpsychotic, he claimed he lived in the woods most of his young live. He came back to the city in his forties to become an artist.
What do you think an artist cares about? Does he think all day about fine wines and black tie affairs and what he’s gonna say at the next after-dinner speech? No, he lives only for that narcotic moment of creative bliss.