Have you ever mourned the idea that everyone has their own rich, inner worlds, and you will never be able to fully understand someone without seeing it? I feel a deep sadness that no one will ever be able to fully express how they feel, how they think, and what their daily experience is like. At the same time, I feel a frustration with my own ability to externalize my own personal experience. Creating art or writing gives you a glimpse into the mind of the artist, but it's still a two dimensional representation of their mind. You can see a snapshot, a posed still of that moment, but you can't peer around the corners of the frame or read between the lines to see what's really there. In that way, a painting is an impassable window into the world of its creator, and a prison for its contents.