This is a photograph of me in 1956, when I was eight years old. I was born in Brooklyn, New York, but grew up mostly in a seaside town, in Sea Girt, New Jersey.
I didn't know I would be an artist, although I always loved to draw. There weren't markers then. I drew with crayons. I had a box of sixty-four. The many colors were so exciting. My favorite subjects were flowers and clowns because I could use lots of color.
Sometimes I wrote poems and letters that I kept to myself. When I was angry or sad, I wrote to express my feelings. I learned that with words I could create a private world.
In high school I continued to draw and write, but never thought of art or writing as a career. I was maturing at a time when it wasn't clear what a girl was supposed to do.
Then in college, I took a pottery class by chance and fell in love with clay. I couldn't always make it do what I wanted, but I felt so much pleasure trying.
A few years later while attending art school, I began teaching children clay work and haven't stopped. When I realized that there weren't any books on women artists for my students, I knew I had to change that.