Artwork, in any form, is a self contained Faustian bargain. To create is to deal with the devil of your own innermost mind ………. It is a thousand sleepless nights, your mind racing and whirring faster than you can believe, a thousand more spent dreaming of the future, of making a name for yourself. It is the endless pursuit of perfection, or at least close to it, which drives you insane, but brings you so much joyous satisfaction. It is the blood that runs through your veins, the life force of the artist. It is the realization of your wildest imagination. Your soul, on a once blank page. Your heart, squeezed and strained, run through a sieve, projected and displayed, as well as training and natural coordination will allow. It is the driving force behind everything you do………….. it is this. A philosophical monologue near midnight. A dream.