I’m not entirely sure why I make art or rather, that’s why I do it. That irrational, illogical drive to create (destroying and rebuilding as dialog) is what makes us human. Storytelling (in its infinite forms) defines us as self-referential, self-reflective, infinite beings. The drive for the impossible, that sometimes we actually touch upon with a brilliantly crafted story or perfectly placed brush stroke, is why I make art. But I don’t know that for sure —only that I do make art.