Passion, Paint, and a little Relief

Some days, the world feels very heavy and cold to me. An unkindness that is hard to shake. As a Parent, certain news always hits deeper than others-it hits you in your chest and stays there. When I hear about another school tragedy, grotesque in all of our thoughts, it's not something I know how to talk about. I just feel it. And more often than not, that feeling pulls me toward the canvas and the palette. Painting becomes the place where I put what I don't have words for.

When i'm in the studio, things slow down. The noise from outside fades a little. Mixing color, pushing paint across the surface, building texture-it becomes a quiet back-and-forth between instinct and emotion. I don't come in with a plan. I come in with a mood, a weight, sometimes even a sense of restlessness, and I let the work find its own way.

There's a real sense of relief in that.

Painting doesn't expect explanations. It doesn't need things to make sense. It allows opposites to sit next to each other-movement and stillness, tension and calm, darker moments beside brighter ones. IN a world that demands certainty and speed, painting gives me permission to pause.

Color plays a big role in that pause. Sometimes it's bold and energetic, sometimes softer and quieter. Texture builds slowly, layer by layer, much like life does. Each mark feels like a small reminder that something meaningful can take shape even when the process feels unsure.

That's why art matters.

It doesn't fix what's broken in the world, but it can soften the edges. It can create a moment when you breathe a little easier and reconnect with yourself. It reminds us that feeling deeply isn't a flaw, and that beauty doesn't need perfect conditions to exist.

If a painting asks you to slow down, to spend a little time with it, then it keeps working beyond the canvas. Each piece leaves room for your own memories and interpretations to enter the space. I hope you'll sit with the work and let it unfold in its own time. And if something catches you-if a question comes up or a feeling lingers- you're always welcome to reach out. To me, art lives in that quiet exchange between what's made and what's left.

Warren