Finally Getting Wings for the Forty-First Floor
For a friend: she was a Jewish friend. She invited me to her home. We went up the elevator in a luxurious building. I got off the elevator at the fortieth floor and saw beautiful art. Her art had the soul of real art. It was about things that she had understood, of the days of her ancestors, and their battle with the Holocaust, losing so much life. I had saw incidents of those same things, and I had been sad. When I learned she had died, I though I would like to give her wings to get above the fortieth floor. In honor of her, in hoping people would understand the strengths of collectors and artists getting together.