The title of this print is the name written on an old fiberglass rowboat that belonged to the Inn keeper's son where I was staying and was slowly rotting away in the back yard. He told me that he had bought it when he was just a kid and of course it was his mother's "worry" letting her young boy adventure out on the sea. For me this became a metaphor for the struggles of life and the dangers and trials of growing up and navigating one's way through our modern world into adulthood. I noticed, around the equipment strewn yards outside my studio, several makeshift buoy-like contraptions; blue styrofoam all tied up, jury-rigged style, with odd pieces of rope and plywood. They seemed perfect symbols to me, of less than perfect lifestyles, struggling to prosper, survive, stay afloat or even escape within the turbulence of our times.