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There's a train of thought that an artist should remain apolitical. After all why would you wish to alienate a sector of your audience thereby diminishing your revenue?
If we take that thought a step further and rely on crude stereotypes then surely an artist would wish to pander to the wealthiest in society, a group that is ostensibly more right leaning in its political preference. Well, things are changing. The world, in the sick state that it is, cries out for change. Maybe there's more to life than the bank balance of a struggling artist.

On the whole right wing policies are not conducive to planetary stability. They generally favour anti green measures pursuing a free market capitalist ideology that clashes with all known scientific modelling. Combined with a strong nationalistic approach, against free movement with restrictive immigration strategies, and favouring policies which restrict human rights, these repressive regimes cause great civil unrest. A downward spiral of poverty and repression causing an almost certain societal collapse will ensue with natural resources not being shared equally between all citizens. Only a dramatic shift to left leaning ideologies on a global scale can halt the decline of all life on earth.

Perhaps it's not too political to want a planet where we can all live together in harmony sharing the finite resources as equitably as we can.

The wonder of travel agents in the 70's and 80's.
Brochures for free.
Bright, colourful, enticing. The scent of travel; fresh paper, glue, and binding.
Rectangles and squares - windows to the world:
Madeira, Rimini, the Costa del Sol, The Balkans or The Gold Coast.
Walking, skiing, riding, or lounging in the sun; majestic monuments of history or the trappings of tourism.
Great halls and snowglobes, castanets and concertina postcards.
Wish you were here.
Wish you were there.
Wish you were somewhere else.
Currency and coffee.
Every photographed face a study in excitement and joy.
I could run across that beach, play in that pool, explore the back streets of that sprawling city.
Take my booking, take me there.
Take the days, the hours, the minutes and the seconds until departure.
The early morning start, the anticipation in the air.
The journey to the station, the harbour, the airport.
The journey.
It's all about the journey.
Those first steps. Those first steps in to the building.
Reaching.
Reaching to take down a brochure from the shelf.
Reaching for sunlight in the gloom.
What became of that wonder?

The same people that resisted COVID containment measures are the same people resisting WCA's (Water Conservation Acts). Even though these are a legitimate worldwide phenomenon, and have been accepted notwithstanding in areas prone to flooding, there's a sizeable minority unwilling to work with the general consensus. The irony of some governments still using water cannon to disperse their protests seems fitting in a way.

Hurtling through space and time I stop to take the odd picture.
Well, we all like the odd picture, don't we.

The fabric of reality, worn and torn from previous exertions, is once again under increased pressure. A culmination of cause and effect over millennia has given our current civilisation a first taste of the dark days to come. Chance coincidence becomes daily routine. The unusual, the expected. Smell the petrichor and count your blessings for a new circus is rolling into town.