Brian and I have just gotten back from a gallery talk, and are hanging out in his studio, settling down for a long winter’s paper writing and sculpture carving. All of a sudden, we hear voices in the alley. Drunk voices, yelling “Whaddaya doing?” “I’m peeing!” “We’re all peeing!”

In unison, we spring in to action. Brian goes for the door, I hit the lights. Two women are squatting in the alley, pants around their ankles, their bottoms glowing in the moonlight like the face of the Timex watch I used to wear back in college. “Uh oh,” one cries, her bare bottom disappearing around the corner and into the darkness. “Uh oh!”