I hoped things had changed by the eighties.
In my memory the painting is titled, “Me and Joe.” It is small, maybe ten by fourteen inches.
I am looking at the painting from behind the backs of several classmates who stand clustered around it. Not only am I trying to be invisible but I am also trying to hide how much I like the painting. It is circa 1983 and not close enough to my graduation from Pratt Institute to make me feel like I can survive. Graduation is so far away. I have considered dropping out. What is the point in going to art school, anyway?
The artist whose painting we are looking at is Louise Fishman. She has invited her painting class to her studio in what was still, just barely, the meatpacking district on Manhattan’s West Side. I hadn’t wanted to…
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