Twenty, thirty, forty thousand years ago or more; in a world where an adult Homo-sapien – a migrant hunter and collector – might aspire to reach, with luck, the ripe-old age of twenty five, what might he possibly benefit from or be trying to invoke by wasting precious time and resources scrawling images of his environment and dreams on rock faces? The compulsion to interpret our environment and to create is as old as the hills. It might well be as old as prostitution; on the one side the need to exchange and commerce what is base in us, on the other the need to find avenues for our elevation and expansion beyond the flesh. Both extremes – not prostitution as such but perhaps the polar opposites of the flesh and the spirit – are fundamental to us as human beings. But creativity is in our genes; every one of us. Think about that. We have all been artists for far longer than we have ever been in commerce, exchanging pelts for pots and such. So much for Capitalism! Let’s salute the artist in us for a moment.