I watched him smear colors together with his knife, more curious about the pigments than his words. I thought he was just being over dramatic, as I assumed all artists were. I had no idea that he meant it literally. He sketched out vague shapes on his canvas before he ever loaded his brush, needing to figure out where this piece would take him before he started this journey. His wide brush swept across the white plane as I left him to his work. I can only imagine what transpired between the time I left and the time I returned.