When I was eight years old the Soviet Union collapsed. My family became dirt poor overnight. The years my parents spent saving for my future by sacrificing their health working in a caustic chemical factory instantly meant nothing. I had to sell magazines on the street corner in the dead of winter to be able to eat macaroni. My trust of government's ability to take care of me in a time of crisis is zero.

The scenes during the 2020 pandemic in the USA made it clear even the land of the free wasn't immune from the same Soviet outcomes. From my chronic childhood poverty, I know what it is like to wipe with newspaper in an outhouse. I didn't stack toilet paper. I stacked ammunition, and food that wasn't macaroni. With my stimulus check I bought 'junk' silver.

I painted this in 2011 on a large 24"x36" canvas in a project featuring world currency.