Am I DaVinci? That is up for debate. But am I Jackson Pollock? Absolutely. I am Modern Art. I am the new generation. Warhol, Rothko — those guys can’t even compete. What did I draw, you may ask? The truth. A masterpiece which will live on through generations (of first years trying to find the Harper Cubicles for their Hum writing seminars). Years from now, art history students will take treks to the 1st Floor Harper Women’s Bathrooms to study my seminal painting. It was inspired by the bland, yet bonkers Bartlett “food” which may or may have been contaminated by the LSD study being conducted next door. The eyes drawn with my middle school sparkly gel pens follow you from the minute you enter the door; the landscape was painted with my personal collection of pigments stolen from the dregs of Logan, and the residual fumes will make you believe that you are actually in a field of poppies. All in all, it is not a painting, but an experience which is only truly appreciated during the full moon of the winter solstice.