Never trust an artist. I worked for one who seemed so full of love. One who seemed really interested in what I was doing and how I was coming along.
They eventually asked me to be a part of a project. I was to be the subject of it, this is when the red flag should have gone up. It was to be a biography of someone finishing up grad school with hopes of having a go of it after school.
Interviews were conducted with what seemed like genuine interest, the book was published. As I finally got to read and go over the published edition, I noticed a printed letter from the artist to her publisher on the back. It was a letter stating that the artist had found her next subject for the series of biographies and here is a part of that letter:
“I met Mitchell last summer when he walked into my studio in New York, looking for a summer job. He was the shyest of my assistants, I couldn’t figure him out in the beginning and I thought this boy to be the most likely to pull out a machine gun and shoot us all.”