Her father owned a saloon that stank of liquor, vomit and urine. Her mother did the cooking there and never had time for reading bedtime stories. That is how Sculptress June Leaf, 39, chooses to remember her childhood on Chicago's West Side. With such a past, it is not surprising that her artistic heroes are Hogarth, Klee and Ensor, or that she has learned, from the hippies she says, "to see the kaleidoscopic side of life and the mind."
"It's all so tepid in the galleries," she complains. One exception is Manhattan's Frumkin Gallery,...
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