When I was a kid, sometime in the early 60s, my family was leaving town (again) and a kindly old neighbor whom I adored (everyone thought she was a kook, she and I spent an afternoon one day planting jelly beans in her yard) took me aside, and told me something that she felt was very important and just might save me (she also knew what a mess my home-life was). She took my two hands by the wrist and held them up for me to look at-“Look carefully at these,” she said, “these are your two best friends, and they will be with you wherever you go. No matter how bad things may get, or how sad you may feel, your two best friends will always be with you and will always be ready to help.” I lost touch with her almost immediately after that, but her words have never left me. Making art is the way my two best friends have saved me. (I am not on any medications, really)