Reason 197

Art. I have appreciated art since I was little, taking great joy in making elaborate Play-Doh scenes, sculpting odd creatures out of the rough clay from the hillside near my house, and swirling bright colors together on that special, slick finger painting paper. Somewhere along the line I realized the art I made wasn't particularily interesting or inspiring, unlike the detailed, other-worldy pictures my brother drew, so I poured my energy into other creative outlets. What I didn't abandon, however, was my appreciation for art of all kinds, which is obvious as soon as you set foot in my tiny studio condo. Every single wall has at least one framed piece of art hanging on it and there is a stack of prints and original works leaning against the kitchen table, patiently waiting for a home. In fact, on several recent occasions I have had to stop myself from investing in anymore pieces, no matter how jaw-dropping, thought-provoking, or down right hilarious they may be, because I have simply run out of walls. I guess that isn't such a bad problem to have in the grand scheme of things. I especially like stumbling upon work by local artists - you know, the kind who painstakingly set up a small booth at all the seasonal craft fairs and farmer's markets, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with the unwashed masses as they stroll by in search of stinky candles and photographs of a cherry tree in full bloom, as if that constitutes great art. Gee, I'm not a snob or anything (she says while rolling her eyes). Once we're friends, Jason, I would adore checking out the art scenes in Los Angeles and Seattle with you on my arm, having heated discussions about why that rusty bike tire mounted on a toilet doesn't get me all hot and bothered and letting you convince me that it wouldn't hurt to have one more picture of a naked lady in my bathroom. As Twyla Tharp so brilliantly stated, "art is the only way to runaway without leaving home," and I think it would be grand to run away with you once in awhile, Jason.