It's neither Picasso nor Onassis, but

Our couple who are now full-time artists, once did business for three years, just like any other Korean.

In early 1985, something had to be done to survive. My husband and I walked aimlessly the Manhattan Avenue in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, blaming us for not having money or skills. I saw the sign of a rental attached to an empty store, which was covered with dust at the entrance.

We contacted the landlord. The landlord wanted us two month's deposit and one month's rent. It’s a store we can't rent in our situation. Well begun is half. With the courage that hunger created, we explained to the landlord our situation. After he hearing our whole story, the owner wanted us only paid him a month's worth of money.

I had to pay the rent a month, renovate the store, and fill up the stuff, but we were really worried. We also visited a Korean owner of the Deli store in the same neighborhood and told him about our situation. He lent us three thousands of dollars. I'm grateful even if I think about it now.

Henry, a Polish Jew, opened the trunk back of an old car in the '70s and handed me the spring jacket. He was a person who bought a large quantity of goods from a wholesaler and sold them to a retailer. I met him a year ago when I was working at a clothing store. When he heard that I was opening a clothing store, he came and said, "I'll give you the goods, so you can sell them and pay me back later".

My husband repaired the store and drew a sign. Before the signboard was put on, passers-by began to snoop around. My husband repaired the shop and I sold the goods. The goods were sold like hot cakes. The unexpected beginning coincided with Easter and Mother's Day. We didn't even know Americans were changing into spring clothes before or after Easter, and I later learned that the Polish were a race of lavish spending money on clothes.

Henry's spring jackets and winter coats, which pierce the tastes of the Polish people more than anyone else, have been sold out as many as neighborhood women almost wear.

The store was full of goods not long after the start of business. After paying off debts and giving the landlord two months' worth of down payment, and I got the money too in my hands. It wasn't me who was worried about meals the next day. My head was full of thoughts of looking for another store in the hope of making money.

My father-in-law who is working in Alaska visited us. "Would you make your husband “Onassis or make him Picasso?" he asked me." He poured cold water on me who am happy the business went well. If anyone could be Onassis and Picasso, I will try, but I didn't listen to it by saying that it was nonsense. But the word was whirled in my head.

My father-in-law gave up the artist's dream and lived as a living person in those harsh years. He wanted his son to be an artist, but his daughter-in-law came in and went into business. "My husband was excited at first because the business was good, but he was tired of life of both businessman and an artist. I had no choice but to sell of the store

Now my husband is neither Onassis nor Picasso, but he has a pleasant life working in the studio all day.