What happens when the muse of our daydreams is displaced by egoism parading as a deep exploration of identity? In mise en abyme, the “artist” is consumed with herself and gradually neglects her muse. As the room around her becomes increasingly ornate, the artist is more and more consumed by her “work”, which is merely a simultaneously idealized and dumbed down projection of herself. All the while, the muse’s frustration at the emptiness of the whole endeavor swells.