My nickname was Bongo. DJ and I crafted a sweet Shangri-La in the forest behind Roberts property, equipped with a tub we made from damming up the creek and a tree house which became our make shift office. Oh, I paid dearly for that tree house; I learned quickly that poison oak could spread just as fast as the kudzu that surrounded us. Every morning the workers who were building the house would show up and yell “hey Bongo”, that was their way of saying were here get to work. They didn’t know what to think of us, a couple of Yankees who lived in tents and played guitar in trees. But a strong work ethic and a sense of humor quickly won them over, and the name Bongo over time had a hint of respect built into it.

            I learned how to collaborate. Working with DJ and Robert gave me a taste of what the real world of art was like. In school, you make a piece of art and the teacher and the rest of the class critique it. You learn to justify your process and your idea, in some ways you are always in a defensive posture. The only people you collaborate with is you, yourself, and I. I thought that when I finished school I would make art and people would buy it, not the case. I didn’t understand that when you make art for other people it requires dialogue and compromise. At times it is a struggle to define your style as an artist within someone else’s guidelines and criteria. Working within in a group has taught me to listen carefully, synthesis and streamline ideas to come up with a consensus. The more input someone has into the creation of a piece of art the more intrinsic ownership they have with the piece.

            Sometimes tragedy leads to opportunity.  The day started like any other day good work, and good conversation. My good friend Robert leaves to get food for lunch, and is killed in a car accident. Life stopped for both of us in a sense, his in body, mine in soul. He was my mentor, what I learned from him I will carry with me for my lifetime, and I will pass it on to my children. It is strange that when you are used to looking at the world the way you always have safe and content, opportunity always seems just out of grasp. But when someone shakes your tree and uproots you from your normality and gives you fresh eyes to see, opportunity shakes your hand and wants your number.