As bombs fall, artists must continue to preserve beauty and truth.

I find myself at a loss for words, yet I’m still searching—searching for a way to express myself, to make sense of the world we’re living in. I remain hopeful for peace, but it feels like we are collectively spiraling toward destruction. The existential anxiety in the air is thick, occupying more space in my psyche than I can hold.

And still, I sit with the awareness that my anxiety is a privilege. My geopolitical location shields me from the immediate threat of violence that so many around the world endure daily. While I wrestle with uncertainty, others are confronting chaos, displacement, and death in real time.

The painting featured in this post was created in the fall of 2023 during a time when I felt hopeless, paralyzed, and unable to speak up or offer any meaningful help to those being oppressed. But the act of creating allowed me to transmute that helplessness into something honest.

No matter where you stand politically, we are all witnesses to the suffering of innocent people—children, women, and men—subjugated because of their culture, religion, or birthplace. These aspects of our identity are often not chosen, but assigned to us by a divine stroke of fate. So why are some born into safety while others inherit war? Why are some oppressed while others are exalted by the simple conditions of their birth? When will this karmic imbalance be transmuted so that we might finally coexist as one human family?

I believe we know, deep down, that we are one people. But there’s a vast difference between knowing and understanding. We can be aware of facts without grasping the deeper interconnectedness that gives them meaning. That’s where artists come in, to raise questions that bridge the gap between awareness and understanding.

We are aware that bombs are falling. But do we understand what they mean for the wholeness of our humanity? What we do to one, we do to all. 

Much love, 

Drew