I finally gave up. When I let it all go - the vocabulary, the buzz words, the high brow, the elite deception - I became the artist I wanted to be. I was no longer bored. I no longer had to feign interest, had to relate to the pure, had to appear enthusiastic about the current state of art. I can wallow in my own kaleidoscopic, phantasmagoric entertainment. And I was there - wrapping my eyes around parsley greens that had English accents, giving my paintings magenta shadows and reds with attitudes. I want to play with palettes that carry scents deep into the canvas. I want to orchestrate visual symphonies that massage their color waves around me. No Delphic wisdom. Very basic. Very happy. Very entertaining. Suits my hedonistic, pagan, Celtic self. The selfish satisfaction of creating my own myths, my own golden Byzantium is all I need.