I was standing in my booth in New York. She was reading a longer piece I had written on the wall. (I think it was “Let it be me.”) She had tears in her eyes and turned to me. “Why aren’t you famous?” she asked. Before I could respond she said, “Wait, are you famous?” I smiled and said, “Well, my mom thinks I’m pretty special.” She laughed and placed a large order for her New York gallery.

Why do we do things? I guess we have to ask ourselves that every day. Am I doing this so I can be noticed? So I can take the selfie? When we travel, we always marvel at the people in wondrous places taking pictures of themselves. Ignoring the Eiffel Tower, but showing what dress they wore in front of it. Or at a restaurant. Is it more important to take a picture of the food to prove you were there, or to really enjoy the food, to savor it? When we give gifts — are we looking for the thank you, or simply trying to give pleasure to the other person?

There are so many things that I paint in sketchbooks. write down in notepads. Things that no one will ever see, but I still do them. I do them for the pleasure of creation. To work on my craft. To, with any luck, become better. Sketches that won’t make me famous, but will fill my heart.

I want to be a better artist, but also a better human — work on my intent. Focus on the content, and not the “likes.” The goal, the reward, is not be famous, but to be seen. If we saw each other…If you saw, not just my face, but all that I have faced, and if I did that for you… Wow! That could live on forever!