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Edition of 2875 of which 300 copies are signed and numbered 1-300 (131-140 are reserved for dedication); 26 are signed A-Z as artist's proofs; four are signed as dedication copies and three sets are signed as progressives.

June 6, 1988 Eight colors 17 " x 24"

Client: Jim Swinerton, Swinerton & Walberg 580 California Street, San Francisco CA 94104. Telephone (415) 421-2980 1-130, 141-300: Thackrey & Robertson Gallery 131-139: dedication copies A-Z: Artist's own use Dedication copies: Jim Swinerton; Claire, Sam and Michael Fuller Progressives: One set to Jim Swinerton

Models: Sam and Michael Fuller

(Designing With Illustration, Steven Heller & Karen Pomeroy, Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1990)

Fathers teach their sons to be men by deeds more than by words. My father taught me to work with my head and my hands by doing so himself. He took me to look at huge machines, themselves dwarfed by the massive project they were about. "I helped design this. I worked on this dam." He pointed to California's irrigation canals, the eighth wonder of the world. He worked on them, too, for the State Department of Water Resources. He showed me spillways and hydroelectric projects that he and others had designed. Turbines the size of houses generate the electricity that makes this modern world.

My grandfather-my father's father-who lived to the age of 91, was born into a world lit only by fire. In 1892, if you lived in a big city, you might've had gas light. But, out in the countryside, when night descended, you were in the dark. If you wanted light you struck a match and burned an expensive candle, or lit a harsh kerosene lantern. Or, you could look at the stars.

But, much of the time you went to bed with, and got up with, the chickens. The Milky Way, planets, comets, alien suns further away than we can comprehend-they're almost washed away by the electric light we take for granted, forgetting that all humanity before us had nothing even remotely like it. We've lost the stars, but have more time in the day. Might as well take advantage of it: there's plenty of rest in the grave.