FOUR | Art is rebellion. It rejects the certitude of time. It transforms doubt into affirmation. Perhaps we are artists because we seek to make permanent our bond to the mysterious roots of existence that we share with all the living, but cannot. It is in this tension, between what we seek and what isn’t possible, that drives us. Or perhaps we create for no other reason than for what Iris, in Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin, considers her motivation to be in writing her story: “Perhaps for the same reason children are writing for, when they scrawl their names in the snow.” To be seen.