the page starts off as white. A piece of Charmin waiting for your daily fiber. So you make it black. A sea of inky black. It reminds of my room at night. Wrapped in the covers, the ac humming, and tinfoil over the windows so not a strip of light goes in. But like white you have to move away from black. So you decide to put something beautiful or ugly down. Those are really your only choices aren't they? And the problem is they are so hard to tell apart. Like the color circle the ugly sweeps around and becomes beautiful again. Witkin’s photos of people suspended in the air with barbs in them; Damien Hurst's dissected cows, Goya's black series, Manet's collapsed Jesus... They are all so beautiful.

Supposedly you have another option- to paint something real. To show life just as it is. But then you are a reporter not an artist. And anything is real. Submit a light switch, a pencil, and a tampon- they are all real.

So you are really after something beautiful/ugly - but not trite because dammit you have something to say and your own way to say it.

You want to get something special out of your life with its four gray walls and your Clockwork Orange poster. To contribute something after drawing naked people and pictures from Italy. But what is there to draw from? Your life is drawing naked people, watching Comedy Central, eating Ramen noodles and pizza, driving, a special girl, drinking, a strange guy, shading, perspecting, clay...