Am I crazy? Do I know what I am doing? Maybe I ask these things because I have never had a show of my own. People, strangers, many relatives, have never seen my work as a whole, many of them together in one gallery. Some are large, some are small, some are painted all over, some are half-painted, you can see the canvas or the wood, blank, grainy, sliced, broken, notches. Maybe the show is one large portrait of myself, my mind, my soul, my eyes. People say, "The artist is displaying his or her self". That is said, yes. I think it can be true, I think it is true. I think I paint other selves, how I see them, how I do not see them. I know them but I do not know them. I want to know them and I do not want to know them.

Am I lost? Do I not have this sense of reality that many say one should have? Like some say, "Get with it", or, "Wake up", or, "Who do you think you are, Picasso?" But we are artists, no? Just artists, with a little something to reveal, opening a candy wrapper only to find a message inside, "I Love you". You are taken back because that is the last thing in the world you would expect when opening a candy wrapper, you just can't wait to open it and chew on that sweet milk chocolate that melts in your mouth because it tastes so good, but to read this on a candy bar and it not being the valentine heart candies that you pop in your mouth, it is something you never expected, something maybe you keep to yourself. Maybe it is like this for the art. I pulled out all the paintings I've done, this morning I did so, both half rooms of the attic are packed with paintings, I had to do it so I can see how much I have actually done, and which ones I will choose for the show, I talk to them, I say, "AL I want you there" or "I hope I can put you in, some may not like you though, but I do".