For me, painting requires certain conditions to be in place. It has very little to do with inspiration in the romantic sense. It’s closer, I think, to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I know—what? But the idea resonates with me: that a person needs their basic needs met before they can discover the space, time, or calm required to make art.

There’s a familiar Hollywood stereotype of the artist plagued by dark thoughts and real-world suffering, producing unimaginable work from that turmoil. Maybe that’s true for some. I honestly don’t know. But for me, it doesn’t work that way. I seem to need stability before anything creative happens—some level of financial security, placidity in my relationships, and even something as simple as a nice day. I need to feel like things are going well.

And even then, the inspiration isn’t specific. I don’t feel an overwhelming need to paint one particular subject. Instead, I feel relaxed enough to paint at all. I feel good—and that’s when painting becomes possible.

2025 wasn’t that kind of year for me. Grocery prices have skyrocketed, Tariffs have devastated the economy, and I’ve been feeling the pinch. Morale at my day job seems to be at an all-time low. There’s a kind of fear emanating from the people around me. I can’t fully explain how I sense it, or why, but I do. On top of that, a few people close to me have died recently. Taken together, it’s been difficult to maintain a positive attitude.

And positivity, whether I like it or not, has always been central to my work.

Still, I’m going to push forward. It is a new year, after all. Dividing time this way helps, doesn’t it? I don’t imagine anyone is following my work with the attentiveness reserved for the greats, but if they were, they might see the story of my life unfolding through it—the timelines, the shifts, the pauses.

That’s why I’ll keep working, even without inspiration. I believe that persistence itself leaves a trace. My work has always been about time. About documentation. About recording my small sliver of experience here on earth. And whether I’m aware of it in the moment or not, I trust that whatever I’m moving through will find its way into the work eventually.