In early 1969 I bought a blank book with a black cover and began writing and drawing in it. Since then I've filled about 12 of them chock full of inane thoughts, strange pictures, portraits, poetry and just plain doodles.

Most of the drawings of friends and family were drawn over the last 41 years in the small 6" X 8" format black books. Each time I finish filling one in, and go buy a new one is a bit of a strange feeling - as though I've closed the door on a chapter of my life. It's interesting to be able to turn the pages of the black books and see the paths my life has taken and the faces of the many people I've drawn.

The books themselves are tattered and worn from having been carried about - some of the black books took 3 years to fill and eventually lost their covers. Some of the books are held together with duct or electrical tape.

In 1982 I left a black book with 6 months of writing and drawing in a phone booth in the San Jose City Hall. By the time I realized what had happened and ran back, the book was gone. I never saw it again. 28 years later I still mourn a little bit for the art and history that the book contained.