They say everyone falls in love with San Francisco. I certainly did. I also became enamored with my 1972 Polaroid SX-70 camera—taking it with me everywhere to photograph the city's famous landmarks.
Life was good. I had at long last given myself permission to become the artist I always knew I was. Now, I just had to show the world who I was!
Before long, I had an artist studio at Hunters Point (formerly a Naval shipyard) and began participating in Open Studios, an annual art festival. I was excited to have my very own studio in one of the largest enclave of working artists in the country—and it was in San Francisco! Hunters Point had over 300 artists I was told. I couldn't wait to meet some of them, see their work, and become one of them. Little did I know that Hunters Point would be such a lonely place. I'd go for days, even weeks without seeing another soul stirring in my building. This was a place for artists and writers to find peace in an otherwise noisy and busy city; a haven to be alone and to create—not a place to socialize and pass the time with other artists. I know now that creating art is usually an isolated profession.
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