Lately, it feels like the world is unraveling. The news is a constant stream of chaos, injustice seems never-ending, and hope feels harder to hold onto. So many of us are feeling sadness, despair and fear. It’s exhausting. And as we all look around for beacons of light, I’ve found myself leaning more into the arts—into the raw, fearless, and often rebellious ways that artists channel their frustration, rage, and heartbreak into something that moves us.
I’m not an artist. My work is about building, structuring, and leading. But I’ve always admired those who can take emotion and make it tangible—who can paint fury onto a canvas, stitch resistance into fabric, or sing the words we’ve been too afraid to say out loud. More than ever, I’m drawn to these acts of defiance, to the art that refuses to be ignored. I’m grateful for those who create because at a time when humanity is becoming less human, bringing beauty, provocation, or even discomfort into the world is itself an act of hope.
I know this isn’t new - art has always been a reflection of its time. It’s an archive of emotions, a witness to history, and a force that forces us to confront what we might rather avoid. Protest songs from past generations still cut deep today. Bold graphics in resistance movements grab attention and demand action. Fashion becomes a declaration, a refusal to blend in. Literature forces us to sit with discomfort and question our place in all of it. Art, in every form, is both a mirror and a megaphone—it shows us who we are and dares us to be better.
In moments of collective pain, we need anthems that scream what we want to yell. We need murals that speak where silence has settled. We need films, poems, and performances that remind us we’re not alone in our anger, our grief, our hunger for change. And to stop us from punching people.
And while I’ve always held an appreciation for the arts, I want to start taking responsibility in doing my part to support them. At a time when creativity is undervalued and underfunded, when voices that challenge the status quo are dismissed or censored, I want to do my part to ensure they’re heard—not just in words, but in action. That means spending more of my time and money supporting artists, independent creators, and institutions that foster bold artistic expression. It means going to the exhibitions, buying the books, listening to the music, and wearing the designs that make a statement. It means amplifying the work of those who refuse to be muted.
There’s something powerful—poetic, even—about creating something beautiful in the face of despair. It’s an act of defiance, of resilience, of belief in something better. Art reminds us that there’s still passion, still resistance, still an unwillingness to accept the world as it is. And in that, there’s still hope.
So, to the artists—the painters, poets, musicians, designers, filmmakers, and performers—thank you. I appreciate you.
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