The fluctuating monotony of dampness in the air... the familiarity of a reptilian taxidermy museum, something you're sure you've known. You know he's working, he's always working. The comfortable solitude of Chicago's brick and mortar shyly mocks the dawn rising over New York City.  Matthew Hamilton Woodson is as succeeded a man as I've ever almost met. An illustrator, musician and enthusiast, he knows himself well, and you know its going to be a long night.