In the summer of 2003 my friend Richard, whose studio was in the same building as mine, used to drop me at my office on the way to whatever he was doing that day. Often this meant, over my protestations, I was pressed into some small adventure. The terms "office" and "time" being not really in him,off we would go. One morning in May or June I heard the familiar "Jeff I need to show you this, it will just take a minute.". This was almost a guarantee of my being 30 minutes late to my office. Richard pulled his van beside a building three or four blocks from our studios. There, inside a two story truck dock, was a partly finished twenty five or thirty foot wooden boat. It for all the world looked like a museum restoration of a 19Th century vessel. The sun was filling the space. I stepped inside and made several pinholes. This is my favorite. The man on the right is the building custodian. He is asking me what I want and telling me to leave. I never saw the dock door open again that summer. In the fall I saw the boat finished and painted black moored in the river next to the building. I have never known who built it or why.