…Maybe two months ago… i spent the day walking around Central Park trying my hand as a “portrait artist, 10 bucks a pop!” I am super naive. When, as one would expect, people did not have cash to pay for the picture, i said that was alright, that they could mail me the money, that i trusted them. So then i drew them, happily proving that i meant no harm, that so long as the idea of payment was involved they would value it, wanting the money so this might be some new exciting job I could boast about. I imagined two possible outcomes, they lose the drawing and don’t really care about it, so never pay me, or else the drawing sits around and every time they look at it they are taxed by knowing that they did not pay me, and so pay me. Well months passed and i didn’t receive any money in my mailbox. I was sad, i resigned my faith in naiveté, and my aunt told me that if i’m going to do portraits i have to do them for at least 25 dollars - so people appreciate them more, and not waste my time with petty change. I think about what an art handler once said when i was drawing him on the job, “Drawing time is never wasted time.” Today’s tuesday, but yesterday, on monday, I received a letter from a girl named Libby, who had commissioned me that day to draw a nearby tree for her. What sweet success, she sent me a nice little drawing on a handwritten note with the money plus interest. Now we’re pen pals. Well, i’ve digressed, I listened to this fellow playing the saxophone for a while in between drawings that day. Culture lives in the streets.