
While in a car with Wendy D.and David A., I told them about a new art studio I rented at 3rd Ave. and Lake in San Francisco. Wendy thought I was nuts to rent it because I would have to drive there. It was an old run down dark garage that needed a lot of cleaning and had no running water. It had all these odd antique objects there and I thought it would be fun to go through them and see if they had any treasures inside of them or if they were of value. I felt optimistic that I would be able to fix it up into a studio and if that didn’t work, I could always sub-lease it.
We drove through a group of artists at a fair and one of the booths had a sign that read, “Free Video – Comedian with any $10.00 purchase.” This artist sold whimsical ceramic pieces.
While looking at the art there in the booths, there was one with some bakers and I saw a tray of dough. I took a claw-like spoon and started to stir the pieces of dough. It was in shredded pieces. As I stirred, I yelled out to the other bakers, “This dough doesn’t feel right to me and I should know because I’m a baker’s daughter!”
