I’m heartsick at the events of the last few days. Clearly there are more than enough bad folks to go around, but DAMN. Black folks have had a rope around their necks or a knee on their throats or a bullet in their backs for far too long. I heard wonderful Van Jones on TV last night, describing ‘the talk’ that each black parent must gave to their young children of a certain age, and these words stuck out: your skin is your sin. I had to make a quick painting this morning before heading into an art workshop filled with ole white women making fabric sculptures of themselves. How quaint.