When I was young, I never wondered what I wanted to be when I grew up: I was going to be an artist. Admittedly, itís amazing that Iím actually doing what I set out to do and living the life I wanted, especially given the fact that childhood dreams, unfortunately, seldom match adult realities. Looking back, I was the boy who is always drawing, through school, the kid who can draw and now, I suppose, Iím the guy who draws for a living. But all things in summary are deceptively linear, and my seemingly direct flight from dream to destination is no exception. In fact, most of the time I was on the wrong plane entirely, and when I wasnít, I had to get out and push. When I think of the expression In each of us great art is waiting to be born, Iím reminded that for much of my life I felt like I was in a state of perpetual labor.