“Oh! Your words may say “no no no”, but your heart screams “yes yes yes”! I must go prepare myself for the date! Ciao!” Ghent scurries backwards across the ceiling and slips into the shadows. This is probably something your teacher would do, so you aren’t shocked. You use this opportunity to find a way out of this place. Your body can only handle so much modern art before it breaks down sobbing and goes into a fetal position. After hours of wandering around this maze of confusing art ideals and phallic sculptures, you decide to rest underneath some crappy abstract painting that a belligerent drunk made. You’re not exactly sure what to refer to Ghent as. It has a veeery manly voice, but the body of your female art teacher. It wouldn’t be right if you used the wrong pronoun for this nightmarish monstrosity. You are far more progressive than that! As your back presses against the wall, a secret panel opens up and you tumble into a hidden room. The room is dark except for candles. Upon closer inspection, it looks like an altar of worship...for Jackson Pollock. Out of thin air, Ghent appears behind you. “Oh hey, sorry it took me so long! I hadn’t bathed this host in quite some time and she sure smelled terrible. I see you’ve found my shrine of devotion for our one true lord! He graced us with the -most important artistic movement known to man- and changed so many lives with his beautiful kindness. By kindness I mean beating up people in bars! He is truly the messiah the art world deserves!” “Do you have any thoughts on his contributions to the art world? Speak freely with your heart, I won’t judge you!”