Where Do We Find Kindness When It Feels Thin?
I’ve been thinking about human kindness the way you think about air: you only notice it when it thins out. And lately, it feels thinner.
If you’ve been following the news — elections, slogans, borders, blame — you’ve heard the hard, metallic tone in public language. Fast. Certain. As if tenderness is a liability. Not everywhere, not always, but often enough that it leaves a question hanging: Where is human kindness now? Is it naïve to look for it? Is it an illusion we invented to feel better about ourselves?
How Much of the Artist Should We See?
As a new year opens, I find myself returning to a question that keeps resurfacing — quietly, insistently — whenever I sit down to paint, and again whenever I share the finished piece into the bright, fast world of the internet:
How much of me belongs in what I make?
Why Art Still Matters in a Hurried World?
There are moments, when I find myself wondering - who, in this restless world, will stop in front of a painting? Who will pause long enough to see it - not just glance - but truly see it, to feel it, to listen to the quiet language it speaks beneath the surface of colour and form? Will that be you?