​I remember feeling this way after 9/11.

Again after Newtown and Paris. Troubled times.
 
I hear myself saying, What is the point? Painting?
How does that do anything? It seems frivolous and somehow pointless.
Should I turn my brush toward expressing my political view? Trade my art for activism?
Paint doom and gloom?
 
I get it that artists, writers, and musicians can be reflective of what is happening around us. We need to be reflective, but you don’t have to change what you do, you have to continue. If you paint trees, continue to paint trees.
Paint the beauty. Paint the faces, the color and the joy.
 
Paint like it’s your job—that’s what artists do.

Waking, 48x36, oil