One day some of my old canvas turned into guinea pigs in honor to my first friends when I was a painfully shy three year-old of Korean immigrants at nursery school in New York City in the 1970s. They are the embodiment of tender creatures, delightful balls of intense alertness, ready to catch your gaze, emit intense squeaks of fear, enjoy a comforting hold or delight in a crunchy carrot or juicy piece of lettuce. When I was in second grade, my guinea pigs, Muffin and Pete, produced a trio of babies which I named, Flower, Newspaper and Charmin. This event was the most exhilarating and fascinating moment of my childhood.
