picasso's plate

when i was 15 i knew i was an artist. i was living in a small community north of toronto (thornhill has since been swallowed up by the city). this was the mid-60's - well before the internet - so it was not easy to find the work of other artists to look at. our high school library had only a few books. van gogh. leonardo. and picasso. i knew i should love picasso. but i never did. his painting seemed (and still does) messy and undefined. but i loved his sculpture (especially his assemblages) and i particularly loved his ceramics. i still remember a photo of him working outside in southern france. dresed only in a pair of shorts. squinting into the camera. that to me was my ideal studio. outside in the heat. working with clay. i thought an artist had to paint.i didn't know that an artist could just do that.