I tried for a scholarship at the Art Students League by sending in drawings. And they wrote me a letter: “Dear James, we are happy to announce that we will give you one year’s free schooling at the Art Students League.” And I found myself in New York in the fall of 1955 with $350 bucks in my pocket and a room at the YMCA. I checked in to the Art Students League, and I studied with old-timers there — Edwin Dickinson, George Grosz, Morris Kantor, Vaclav Vytlacil, all those old boys there. That was really an introduction to a private art which was fine art. Where drawing and painting could be applied to advertising, and to whatever, television, whatever, but a really private gesture would be — a secret, private gesture — would be your own idea, your own compositions that you enjoyed yourself. And to do something, to paint something or draw something or do something, to prove to oneself that you actually had the idea, would seem to be the important. Otherwise, the idea remained a concept, and no one could understand what you were thinking. So I think it was really like — not a self-analysis — but it’s really thinking you have some strange, unusual idea and can talk about it and talk about it, but it doesn’t mean anything unless you actually can see something physical about that. So that’s what that meant to me at that time.