Etta Budd’s broaching to George of the subject of switching careers cast a hard light on the truth that, in his bliss at being an art student, he had been evading: To serve his people, he must leave art, his first love, and study farming. Into the cozy studio he felt a chill wind blowing from his future, and clothed his sensitivities against the cold. He told his teacher with anguish she would remember all her days, “Miss Budd, you don’t know what it is to be a colored man.”