 14 years ago, I was in art school, and this is the straightest line I could draw. This was Doomsday. This is the destruction of my dream of becoming an artist. Today, this is the straightest line I can draw. So nothing's changed, right? Except that everything has changed. The shake developed out of a single mind to pursue the pointillism, just years of making tiny dots. I'd hold the pen tighter, and the dots used to look like dots, and then they eventually looked like tadpoles. And so I would continue to hold the pen tighter. My hand would still shake, and I'd hold the pen tighter still. This eventually caused so much pain and joint issues, I had trouble holding anything. I left art school, and then I left art completely. A few years later, I just couldn't stay away from art. I got back into it, and I went to a neurologist this time to have the shake checked out, and I was quickly diagnosed with permanent nerve damage. And he took one look at my squiggly line and said, oh, why don't you just embrace the shake? So I did. I went home and grabbed a pencil and just started letting my hands shake and shake, and I started making all these scribble pictures. It felt great, even if it wasn't the art I was passionate about. But once I embraced the shake, I realized I could still make art. I just had to find a different approach to make any art that I wanted. So I began experimenting with different methods where the shake wouldn't affect the work, and I discovered if I worked on a larger scale with different materials, my hand wouldn't really hurt. I went from having a single approach to art to an approach to creativity that has just completely changed my artistic horizons. This was the first time that I realized embracing a limitation can actually drive creativity. And I wondered, could you become more creative then by looking for limitations? What if instead of painting on a canvas, I could only paint on my chest? Or what if instead of painting with a brush, I could only paint with karate chops? Or what if instead of making art to display on a wall, I had to destroy it? This destruction idea turned into a year-long project I called Goodbye Art, where each and every piece of art was destroyed after its creation. By limiting my theme to destruction, I let go of the tangible outcome and saw new possibilities where art didn't have to be tangible or serious or permanent. In the beginning, I focused on forced destruction, like this image of Jimi Hendrix made of over 7,000 matches. It burned in one minute. And then I opened it up to new things where art was destroyed by itself. I looked for temporary materials like Oreo filling, spitting out food, cheese whiz, or frozen wine. The last iteration of destruction was to produce something that never actually existed in the first place. So I laid candles out on a table, and I lit them, and I blew them out, and I repeated this process over and over with the same set of candles. Then I took the videos and assembled them into the larger image. So the end image never actually existed as a physical hole. It was destroyed before it ever existed. The destruction riff opened up a whole new phase of creativity for me. Now when I run into a barrier where I find myself creatively stumped, I move from frustration to anticipation really quickly because I know something amazing might come of it. We live in pretty unpredictable times, and our ability to create is the most powerful tool we have to attain security. Limitations may be the most unlikely of places to harness creativity, but perhaps one of the best ways to get ourselves out of ruts, rethink categories, and challenge accepted norms. And instead of telling each other to seize the day, maybe we need to remind ourselves every day to seize the limitation. Thank you.