The Art of Acceptance
Something that has always troubled me about the New York art scene is the atmosphere of pretension and judgment that often surrounds creative expression. Living here can sometimes feel like there’s an invisible standard for what qualifies as “good” art—and if your work doesn’t meet that elusive benchmark, you risk being dismissed or excluded. This mindset breeds insecurity, leaving many artists and individuals afraid to express themselves authentically.
New York is often associated with an elitist mindset—claiming the best pizza, the best burger, the best art. And while striving for excellence can be admirable, it’s frequently distorted by pride rooted in worldly ambition. Perfection pursued apart from God will always fall short. This is why even some of the city’s most acclaimed establishments eventually shut down—they may offer an outstanding product, but the spirit behind it can be cold, competitive, or self-glorifying, and that energy inevitably seeps through.
The art world often reflects this same pattern: a cult-like reverence for what the world deems exceptional, yet it’s often deeply flawed in the eyes of God. What’s celebrated publicly may be spiritually empty—driven more by ego than by truth or love.
In truth, each of us is like a living art installation. We express ourselves constantly—through our voices, our clothing, our creations, our appearance. But when society begins to construct arbitrary hierarchies of what constitutes "valuable" art, we risk building a culture of alienating people who are deeply cherished by God.
Of course, insecurity is a complex personal journey. At some point, we all must confront our fears and self consciousness. A shy performer, for example, might tremble the first time they take the stage. But after a few missteps, they begin to realize that failure doesn’t destroy them. That’s often how confidence is built—by facing rejection and discovering you’re still okay.
Still, we have a responsibility to foster a more loving and accepting environment—one where people feel safer to express who they are. While we can’t manage everyone’s emotions, we can choose to be kinder, more open, more genuine, and more generous with our attention.
It’s ironic: so many people move to New York in search of creative freedom—fleeing places where they felt misunderstood or constrained. Yet when they arrive, they often encounter just another form of judgment—this time cloaked in artistic elitism. The pursuit of freedom becomes tainted by the need to conform to a new set of standards.
Of course, personal taste and inspiration are essential—we’re each shaped by unique aesthetics, messages, and emotions. But the danger comes when we start to view our own style or vision as superior, while dismissing others' as mere noise.
I’ve found that when I drop my defenses and genuinely try to appreciate someone else’s art—especially pieces I may have once disliked—I’m often surprised. I can begin to understand their point of view and find beauty I never noticed before, even influencing my own art in new and exciting ways. It’s a shift in perspective that creates space for connection.
This brings up an important question: Can we learn to enjoy art we once found off-putting? Absolutely. God can renew our minds, allowing us to see beauty in expressions that once made us uncomfortable. And when we learn to truly love someone through their expression, we deepen our connection with them.
Most people spend their entire lives trying to be “cool.” But what even is “cool”? In our society, it often feels like a carefully guarded identity held by a select group who seem to transcend conventional norms. It’s a dark and limiting construct—and the only real way out is through God. God values even the simplest acts of creation if they are done with love, honesty, and alignment with His heart. It’s not about how polished or impressive a work is—it’s about its intention. Does it reflect love, truth, and humility?
Should we still admire professional art that’s taken years of training and technique? Of course! Excellence should be celebrated. But we can honor high-level skill without looking down on elementary forms of expression. Appreciation doesn’t have to come with comparison or judgment.
I seek out to one day create a new cultural movement—a shift where artistic excellence and radical love can coexist without compromise. A shift where the perspective of what makes “good art” is redefined. It’s a movement shaped by God’s truth, where beauty isn’t dictated by trend or approval, but by sincerity, purpose, and a heart willing to see others with compassion. This is what I call THE K1NGDOM OF GOD.