Proof-positive that I was a born artist.
How My Mother Discovered, A. That I Could Draw, and B. That I was Left-Handed
She smelled something from my nursery, rushed in and saw that I was standing up in my crib and drawing on the wall*.... with my left-hand index finger... having dipped it into the contents of my diaper. I thus proved my early resourcefulness in making the most of limited technology.
From this my mother optimistically deduced that there is a difference between a shitty artist and a shitted artist.
I did my best to develop out of the first category, but found myself constantly challenged to cope with the second.
However, from such a beginning I had nowhere to go but upward...
And that is why I am now in a position to tell you how to do it.
* The shitty wall painting was not preserved.