Every once in awhile I come across a piece of art that seems to know me. I see in it something that has been pulled directly from my heart and allowed to expand in the open air. The artist has pillaged my dreams; he has not only stolen an idea from my mind, he has also given it the very same form it would have taken in my own hands. Stumbling upon one of these rare pieces of artwork is like walking into a foreign place and seeing my internal organs on display. In these moments, being a beholder of art rivals the experience of being a creator. And it gives me hope– knowing that some quiet, diaphanous thought is shared by another person in the universe.