Portrait of the Artist as a Kindergartener

That's me, second from right, holding up my Dada-esque paperdoll self-portrait. When held up in the air, it twisted and spun, its accordion legs bouncing. If memory serves, this is one of the last times I wore white shoes. With one sock pulled up to a height just short of its match, my discomfort with symmetry, as you can see, goes way back to a lawn outside a red brick building. It's 1960. The beginning.