Some folks suck white powder into the nose, some pour alcohol down the throat, some seek love in all the wrong places, and some do art, like M.C. Escher, for example, who said in particular of his work with regular patterns in a plane:
"It remains an extremely absorbing activity, a real mania to which I have become addicted, and from which I sometimes find it hard to tear myself away."
That's what I'm talkin' about.
A question comes to mind: How is the way we "appreciate" or enjoy art not our own related to how we make our own?
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