At the time I did not think much of it, it was just a gut based decision, following my own instincts. I had no idea that my decision would align me with an ideology that would be opposed to conceptual art. Sometime about 20 years ago, while studying art at the University of Georgia, my drawing class was given a list of phobias. Each one of us was to pick a phobia and illustrate it. I picked the fear of visual art, or sportaldislexicartaphobia. To illustrate this phobia, I made a quick, half-ass drawing on a piece of paper, punctured it with a pencil, and tore the drawing out from the inside, leaving the outside edges of the drawing intact. I had planned on returning to class with my clever “illustration,” my creative take on the assignment. But something happened and I had a change of heart. I decided that I loved making art more than I loved being a smart-ass. I remade my drawing, spending more time with it. The result was nothing too spectacular, but it would become a fork in the road, a change of direction on to the path that would lead me to where I am today.