how it came to be.

the graphics department was consigned

to the windowless basement.

It seemed only painters needed natural light.

but outside, in back of the little

art school, the light belonged

to anyone who would see it.

I began drawing a near dead white birch tree

which in closing was by my definition, disappointing. 

the following afternoon I wandered into the light again.

there stood an old spruce tree, somewhat weathered

but majestic nonetheless.

a heavy-handed compressed charcoal stick

moved frantically over the paper hinged to its pad.

this drawing did not disappoint.

the Swainsky. the year was 1966.