While you were exchanging political barbs on social media and marching past my old cracker box apartment in Capitol Hill with home made signs - I was toiling away documenting the events of the time with paint and trowel. Sacrificing what little I had left. Not for some inflated sense of ego or critical acclaim, not for the chance to ship my work into the middle of conservative America on my own dime. And while I’ll most likely never have thousands of Instagram followers or make 60k a year from selling art, maybe just maybe, some little kid that finishes tests early so they can draw on the back of the paper will get dragged to an art exhibit by their mom or dad, see one of my paintings and be inspired to actually creating something. Do something other than napping and walking the dog, working a cubical job that doesn’t really mean anything just like everyone else. Maybe they’ll spend all their free time creating something beautiful.