When I was a kid, my mother and aunt used to have a line: "You make me feel like a million bucks." I've been using it for decades — and I'll come back to it in a moment.

In both my working life and my creative life, there is a theme to what people share with me that I can distill to this: these are some very strange times. And I agree. There is a lot of suffering right now, for a myriad of reasons. Those "strange times" conversations almost always arrive at the same place — that we need more art, music, performance. Anything that gives us the chance to gently release whatever we find ourselves clinging to these days. I've been thinking about this a great deal as we lead up to the Mira Monte Second Saturday on April 11th.

It is always a tremendous honor to share my work with this community. My intention has always been to help people unwind, let go, have a laugh — or even a good, solid think. But that intention feels more intensified now. Over the last two years especially, collectors have shared what it's like to live with my art in their homes and offices. What I keep hearing is that the work gives them a needed break. A release. A relief. A laugh.

I understand, philosophically, how art functions as catharsis — it gives form to feelings that are too tangled, buried, frightening, or shapeless to face straight on. A collector recently told me she feels safe with my abstract expressionist portraits. Another wrote simply, "You do emotion unlike anyone else, Rich."

In ordinary life, there is grief, fear, rage, shame, and longing — all of it can feel overwhelming precisely because it is our life, our pain, our risk. But I believe, in my heart of hearts, that art not only provides a safe distance — it also stands in solidarity with that life, that pain, those risks. It becomes a shared safe space. I know this from my own experience: a painting, a song, a film, a poem has let me enter complicated feelings without being crushed by them. I am deeply grateful that my work can do that for someone else — close enough to feel, far enough to survive the feeling. And that we can do it together.

What's wonderful, as I prepare for April 11th, is that 99% of my work is done spontaneously. For me, it has always been about process over precious — process over product — and I think the fearless, raw energy I bring to the canvas is what people are resonating with more and more in these strange times.

All of that, taken together, feels like a million bucks.

I can't wait to see you all.