Well, it has come around again, that special time of the year when you see the old man with the scythe walk away with a downtrodden look, a look of weariness that can only be described as a "Thank God, that's over!".
I, like so many people and not just Americans, mind you (even though they constantly surround me. And I happen to be one.), am just tired of the constant news feed of fear and loathing of our species: war, disease, classism, diversity, equality VS equity.
And that is real life crashing down on creatives like myself.
All artists are empathic to some degree; otherwise, we wouldn't be able to render our work the way we do. We are giving you, the public, the heart that beats within every one of us.
But this has been a hard year for the kid.
The relocation to a new environment and feeling settled has always been an elusive goal. Over this last Christmas break from work, I was able to spend some time with my younger brother, who is in basically the same financial boat that I am. I voiced a fear that I never felt settled. There is a reason why I still have things in cardboard boxes around my apartment: I never know when I am going to get that typed or handwritten letter. "You are going to need to move. We need the space ... blah, blah, blah".
This is nothing new to anybody else, but if you have moved as many times as I have over the decades. I don't feel settled. I probably won't till I kick it- six feet down, ash and all. And I have seen a bit of Death's handiwork that recently, up close and personal.
And what of artwork?