I've always been drawn to the concept of creating . The painter builds their world upon a canvas, letting their imagination run wild. We break the sky as the limit, reaching into the stars. I imagine that creating is something akin to a magic performance, the magician skillfully deceiving the audience into thinking there really are no cards up his sleeve, except there are no rabbits jumping out of top hats, just the visceral humanity tainting the canvas. And thus, needless to say, I'm in love with the arts. With my endless passion comes curiosity. This hunger to learn and explore initially found its place in self-reflection and improvement: I will obsess over my own pieces, critiquing them until the pieces have no shred of validity left in my eye. I drove myself to achieve perfection, trying vainly to grasp the ultimate beauty, form, and skill. That, I suppose, is what most artists go through; a period of self-deprecation, times when I reach for the fruit hanging too f...