In my early twenties I painted a canvas using poster paints applied with a sponge. Francisco Zuniga saw it and said nice things about it. Again, it was easy to accept the comments as being compliments with little meaning. But it did not matter. I was in a state of flux and needed to hear nice things. If a great artist found something good in my early creativity, perhaps there was hope for me and I could improve. Like Siqueiros, he said that I thought and spoke like an artist. Courage set in and in a trip to the tile factory, sketches of fish and birds were made, each on a single tile for that was the extent of my daring. Quickly I advanced to small landscapes. When at last came the courage to attempt a figure, one of Zuniga's lithographed women was copied. But copying was not the answer toward achieving individuality so the tiles were destroyed.