I was a funky headless homunculus with linebacker shoulders and Tinkerbell toes. It was the truth (from my perspective), but what use was it to art? In my renderings of all-I-could-see, I had better leave myself out, or regard myself in a mirror, at a safe distance. Look too closely, I noted, and you will see monsters. Realism, and possibly reality itself, is reticence and fudging it.