It is my belief that I have made a painting that goes beyond anything I have done before. There, I have said it. I believe this painting waits for us in the future, we must catch up to it. There, I have said that too. And now my appeasement for the hubris-hating throngs of greater and lesser gods: I could be wrong. I could of course be wrong. I could even come to believe that I am wrong sooner rather than later—this has happened before, I have heralded the arrival of something entirely new (and great) only to come to see it as not so much "new" as simply bad. These are all caveats. This new painting is easy to look at, but hard to see. An accompanying note to myself reads, "—." I guess that's private. There are, believe it or not, some things I judge as private. Actually, if you were a close reader of my writing (which of course you are not, you do not even exist!), you would see that I consider almost everything to be private, you would see how very little I actually tell you, despite the swarms of words I surround myself with. As with my life, my writing is the art of hide and seek. I have decided I will not whore this painting out to social media, I will not let everyone's indifference and lack of true attention (which is a symptom of the medium) come anywhere near it, I am tired of whoring out my work to satisfy my desire for some little bit of recognition—I despise social media, I have said that before, I believe its costs far outweigh its benefits, the costs to the artist and her nascent art are huge, they are sometimes even deadly, I will therefore keep this painting away from that vacuous arena. It will therefore just be it and I, we will eye each other warily, sizing each other up hour after hour after hour, day after day, I will come to be certain in my beliefs, or I will come to look at it askance, with doubting eyes and then with disappointed and/or hateful eyes. At which point, perhaps I'll whore it out, as I have whored out every other painting because eventually, it hurts to be unseen.