When I was little, I used to watch my father draw portraits in his sketchbook. That was all he drew: faces and faces and faces. I told him I was going to be a completely different artist. So after much thought, I drew animals. I drew cats and dogs and horses right up through high school. Then I started college and one day, halfway through a figure drawing class, I stepped back from my sketch and realized it could have been from my father’s sketchbook. Apparently I’d run away from portraits so far that, without realizing, I’d come round the other side. Now all I seem to draw are faces. There’s just something magical about the way a few dots of ink become a portrait with a story.