I’m always interested in architecture. Growing up in Chicago, I mean, you kind of grow up in a history book of modern architecture. I was living about two blocks from the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, with all the Doric columns in the front, and I had a little boy who was a toddler at the time, so I was trying to amuse him. You’d take him on the slide over and over and over, you know, a little boy that never gets tired of going on the slide. And, I think, in general, I was trying to celebrate a new phase of my life where I could make big paintings. Because in California, the chances of me staying there and getting a job there, I wasn’t so sure were that well for an entry-level art teacher kind of guy. So, it was a celebration—being able to get a big stretcher bar and have a painting 10 feet long, and a room big enough to paint it in. In California, I painted in a real small space. I think these were kind of like self-portraits, like imagining another persona. I had gotten interested in Eastern philosophy from being out West. I used to talk a lot to my little boy about Buddha. “Buddha this and Buddha that.” And I remember one time Peter said, “What happens when Buddha dies?” And I say, “Well, those guys never die. People just keep getting the book out of the library and somebody else finds out about him.” It was a composite of all that.