I was struck by the sheer scale of it all. 

It was arranged that my father's first subject would be me.  Our apartment at 151 east 81st street was small and modest, yet it did have two bedrooms.  The larger and brighter of the two was to be converted into his new studio.  After school I would sit for my father on a regular basis, this went on for maybe a month or so.  He would dress in a suit and tie; he would put me on a wooden pedestal, sitting in a chair.  I was wearing an Irish Fairisle-sweater.  He had prepared his canvas and was ready to begin.  In this room, we had a profound exchange that would change the course of my life.