After twelve years and achieving tenure and associate professor status at a struggling women's college, I was physically exhausted and emotionally devastated when it was closed down, and we all lost our positions, as well as the school itself. During the spring semester of the year we taught out the senior class, I audited a painting class with a colleague, something I had intended to do since I started, but something that had always taken a back seat to the demands of teaching and trying to keep the school alive. In that course, I got back in touch with a source of pleasure I hadn't known since childhood and was encouraged by my friend and colleague to continue, since he was kind enough to ...

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