I sat at the kitchen table for several hours after school working on my art project. All my markers were laid out on the table in color order, so I could see each one and think about what color I was going to use next. I picked up the burnt orange and glided the tip across the page, blending it when needed and making sure I colored evenly along the paper.
Translation: Russian warship, go fuck yourself.
Whenever tragedy occurs, humans attempt to make sense of the chaos it creates and often look for places of comfort when they feel helpless in meaningless tragedy. As the world watches the war in Ukraine unfold, artists have found their voices in art, regardless of its medium, to express themselves.
I have never had writer’s block. I have had plenty of instances of “this is stupid and why are you making me write this garbage,” but I’ve always been able to write. On Thursday, December, 2, 2021, that all changed.
Every artist has a their own way of creating their masterpieces. Some sit in quiet rooms, diligently plugging away at the ideas in their head to make their ideas real. Others prefer the outdoors or public places. They also have ways of destroying pieces of their creation or completed projects. Each artist has their reasons for doing so. Rarely does the artist ever think about what the public or future generations will think about their actions.
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