At 16, My Father Tore Up My Art School Letter and Threw Me Out. Twelve Years Later, I Was the CEO Holding His Mortgage.

aloud if I’d “finally given up on that art nonsense” and gotten a “real job.”

They had no idea that this wasn’t just my office. It was my building.

My name wasn’t on the marquee outside, of course. I wasn’t that reckless. But the deed sat quietly in a locked drawer behind me, along with sixteen others, all under the corporate umbrella of Russo Fine Art continue reading …