Imagine growing up in a Soho loft in the late 1970s and falling asleep to the sounds of your mother wielding a chainsaw in the next room. This was Ursie von Rydingsvard’s childhood. The daughter of Polish-American sculptor Ursula von Rydingsvard, Ursie and her mother hardly lived a romantic existence in New York. Instead, they scrimped and struggled the way many first-generation immigrant families do. The only difference? That Ursula was determined, no matter what it took, to become the artist she had always felt called to be.