Standing for Something

on the role of the artist in a divided world

Photo by Nainoa Shizuru on Unsplash

In my book Watercolour is for Everyone there is a lesson called, “Many Voices, One Song.” Here is the text from page 36:

This is a lesson in opposites, and the beauty that can happen when they come together.

There is a great need for diversity within society, within the natural world, and also within our creative practices.

The idea for this particular painting came about during a concert I attended several years ago. It was a benefit concert featuring some really diverse and very famous musicians and it attracted a crowd of about 75,000 people from all walks of life, all political persuasions, and across several generations. The music was just as eclectic, from rock and roll to folk music to country. Toward the end of the evening, Neil Young came out to perform his classic song Harvest Moon. It's a song that most people are familiar with, and I don't think there was a single person in the swaying crowd who didn't begin to sing along. I remember feeling goosebumps and thinking to myself, "What a beautiful thing. So many people, so many different beliefs and backgrounds, all lifting their voices in one song." There was a feeling of unity in that moment, hopeful, as many kinds of people all came together to share a transcendent moment of beauty.

In the greater world, our local communities and even in our own personal lives, a climate of divisiveness can find us at odds with others, even people we love very much. What we can always try to remember is that we have more in common than we realize, and that common ground can help us appreciate and respect our differences if we would only choose to see it that way.

So what does this have to do with art? My concert experience inspired me to think of the rainbow of colors, and especially how complementary (opposte colors on the color wheel) make each other shine brighter and more vibrant when placed side by side. When combined, those same contrasting hues can create a beautiful new spectrum of colors that are softer and more harmonious together. Just how it is with people, right?

We can have many voices, and still sing one song full of hopes and dreams of a peaceful world for all.

The country I live in is even more deeply divided than when I wrote that book six years ago. We live in a time when division has seeped into our communities, our families, our friendships. Politics have drawn lines between us, making it easy to forget that life is so much more than where we stand on an issue. But no matter what, we still live side by side. We still care for each other’s children, cheer for the same sports teams, offer hands in times of need. We are still neighbours, teachers, caregivers, and creators whose lives intertwine so many ways. There is no denying that the air around us is charged with division—and often with pain. And yet, even in the midst of this, there are moments of quiet agreement.

The breathtaking beauty of a sunrise over the ocean.

The first notes of a song that sends shivers down the spine.

The hush of fresh snow falling at night.

The way light catches in a child’s hair.

A painting that holds your gaze longer than you expected.

Photo by Juhi Sewchurran on Unsplash

These experiences exist beyond argument or differing opinions. They remind us that, beneath all of the chaos and all of the noise, we are human first—and to be human is to be capable of awe, of tenderness, of recognising something greater than ourselves within the numinous moments of human life here on this exquisite planet, together.

As an artist, I believe that to create is to engage with the world—not just in the way it is, but also in the way I see it as an individual, the way I understand it, the way I feel it pressing in on me. Art is, by nature, not a neutral act. It is a deeply personal response to being a human, right here and right now. Writing a personal essay can not be neutral. It can be gentle and invitational and kind and fair, but by its very nature it is an individual act of expression from an authentic point of view. Creativity, by its very nature, is an act of perception. It is an act of paying attention. It is an act of documenting what we are experiencing as an individual. And, it is never wrong and should not suppressed.

As an artist and writer making a living from my creative work, I exist in two spaces at once. On one hand, I participate in a transactional world—a world of sales and marketing, of making work that finds its way into other people’s hands. But on the other, I work in a realm that deals with something deeper: the practice of seeing and expressing how I experience and understand what I see. In a time when we are constantly pushed to react, to take sides, to divide, the act of seeing—truly seeing—becomes a radical thing. Believe it or not, when I have expressed personal opinions on anything political, I have often received “threats” telling me to “stick to art.” That statement shows very little understanding of what being an artist truly is. It also shows no appreciation or understanding for our First Amendment rights.

It is easy to define ourselves by what we stand against. Against hate or prejudices, against a country invading another sovereign country, against the forces that diminish and divide, against illegal immigration, against wokeness, against vaccinations, and the like. There are plenty of things to be against. We are bombarded by this from all sides. My question today is: what does it mean to stand for something, instead? To shift the weight of our energy toward building, toward nurturing, toward connection instead of what we feel we need to fight and resist?

What do I stand for? I am for a world where compassion, integrity, and care for one another guide our choices. I am for policies that prioritise well-being over power, for healthcare and eldercare as a human right, for education that nurtures curiosity and critical thinking and opens pathways to many kinds of useful work in the world. I am for an economy that values fairness and sustainability over endless consumption. I am for protecting our planet, for communities built on belonging, and for ensuring that every person—regardless of background—can live with dignity, security, and creative freedom. I am for civil liberties being equal for all people. I am for free speech and a free press, in their truest meaning. I am for many things—too many to list.

And, perhaps most of all, I stand for the power of gentle strength and kindness, even toward those with whom I strongly disagree.

This does not mean disengaging from the world. It does not mean choosing comfort over honesty, or turning away from injustice—but it does mean choosing how we engage. It means recognising that when we create from a place of clarity, generosity, and integrity, we invite others to do the same. It means making our values clear—not to draw more lines, but to build more bridges.

I stand for compassion.

For healing our planet.

For human rights.

For equality.

For connection.

These are not neutral stances. But they are stances rooted in hope rather than hostility, in the belief that art and language can remind us of our shared humanity.

So, today I ask: What do you stand for? Not in opposition of, but for?

What would happen if, just for today, you let that truth guide your attention? If you chose to look closely at the world—not to sort it into categories of right and wrong, but to really see it?

Can we return for a moment to one of the images I began with? The sun is rising over the ocean, the sky shifting from deep indigo to saffron, to magenta, to soft morning light. No matter who stands on the shore to watch, the sun rises just the same, and we are each and all left in wonder and awe.

And so, let us be artists of presence. Let us be makers of things that remind people, if only for a moment, of what is worth seeing. What is worth saving. What is worth standing for.

(scroll down for an art project to try)

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