I moved to NYC in 1981. I thought I was a pretty good photographer and felt ready to make a go at it in the art world. I got a loft in TriBeca,  looked for magazine work and tried to get galleries to show my work. Initially, I failed miserably on both counts. I quickly started running out of money. Since I had no money to go out and do things in the city, I stayed in the loft and photographed my loft mate, Ernie, the cat.  I took 10,000 pictures of Ernie and had a few shows in not-for-profit galleries.  Everyone seemed to really like the pictures. At the end of the month I was always short on what I needed for the rent, so I would set up in the corner of West Broadway and Broome Street, put up a good selection of Ernie pictures and sell them for $50 till I made the rent shortfall. One day, Mary Ellen Marks walked by, looked at the pictures, turned towards me, and asked me if I was the photographer. I said yes. She came up to me and kissed me in my mouth. Another day a curator from the Museum of Modern Art passed by and told me what I was doing was very bad for my career. The museum had recently bought some of my pictures. On days when the pictures weren't selling, I would lift the sign and expose the $40 sign underneath. If the day was still slow, I would tear that one up and expose the $30 sign. Usually the $40 sign did the trick and I would meet the rent.