When I was in Middle School my art teacher, Mrs. Boone, introduced me to a Spanish Artist, Romeo Reyna. Romeo created monumental works of art for public buildings and occasionally a private home. I started to work for him after school and on Saturdays. At first, my art expertise was directed at janitorial type services. I became pretty handy with a broom. I persevered and it wasn't long before he took an interest in me. The first work of art of his I participated in creating was a weaving, 12 feet tall and 125 feet long. Afterward the work was complete, Romeo insisted I get a business card that read "professional artist." He told me I was a professional artist now and made me practice introducing myself as such. When his dealers, collectors, and friends came to his studio, he would introduce me and I would say as rehearsed while offering my card, "Hello I am Rhett Lynch, a professional artist, it is a pleasure to meet you." It was a painful sentence to say for a reclusive fourteen year old boy. I worked with Romeo until I began my second year of college. At that point I was too busy creating and selling my own work to keep my job with him. Romeo taught me how to make textiles. He was a perfectionist. He liked to laugh. Often while I was monkeying around on scaffolding, he would read books to the professional artists who worked for him. He would stop reading periodically and ask one of us what we thought the author was saying. One my last day of working for Romeo he made everyone lunch, celebrating my launch. Before I walked out the door, he gave me the best instructions a young artist could hear. He put his hands on my shoulders and directed me out the studio door. He closed with telling me I could never come back and work with him. "No plan B," he said. Creating is moving forward. The moment an artist turns around, he ceases to be an artist.