Sometimes we fantasize that if our work becomes
respected and well known, the answer will be apparent.
But the desire to be famous distorts our art.
We grow increasingly frustrated and blocked.
The question "why do I do what I do" looms larger and larger, marring our conscience.
Only when we can separate the means of our art from the ends,
can we understand that the rumination of questions with
elusive, ephemeral answers is the answer in and of itself.