About 15 years ago, I chose to teach a class about composition and imagery that was on the books as a possible offering in the college. It was the Fall Semester and hard as I might have tried, I couldn’t get the students to understand either the concepts or the art images. I was failing to teach them and getting more and more depressed as each week passed. A couple of weeks before the Thanksgiving Holiday and having contracted the Flu, I was quietly sitting with my journal and pen in hand trying to come up with something. I took an hour to prepare a pot of beef stew and while the ingredients were sitting on the counter, I observed the potatoes, the the meat cubes and the rest composed in a truly relatable way. It seemed that most of my students would have made or seen the makings of stew at one time or another. I pulled out a sketch pad with pencils and as quickly as I could, I knocked out drawing after drawing until I had eighteen of the things. I placed them around my living room floor and realized that a working explanation was right there. After the drawings were stolen, I started making them over and over again. 50. 100. More. Eight prints of “stew” will finally put these things to rest. I hope I never feel inclined to do any more of them.