Richard Stine, that's me. I've made art all my life wherever and whenever I can. Being an artist, a maker of things, was all I ever wanted to be. I drew my first bird on the bedroom wall reaching over the railing of my crib before I was two. I drew my first machine gun when I was 5, and drew my first tree in pen and ink (about that same time) after sneaking a bottle of ink and Esterbrook fountain pen from my grandfather's old roll top desk. Needless to say, I made a terrible mess...but I've loved drawing with pen and ink on paper ever since. I can't remember my punishment for that deed, but I do remember the frustration I felt when I couldn't remember which leaf to draw after looking at the tree then looking down at the paper and back at the tree again. In a way I'm still trying to figure out how to look up and down—look inside and outside—at the same time. I work on the premise that there is no division, after all.
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