Lately the news from Paris is terrible enough that going into the studio and painting seems futile and childish. The world is so strange. It seems that the basic desire of people would be the same, to be happy, and to see others happy, rather than making everyone miserable. Can a person's heart disappear? Is there an empty place where their heart ought to be? It's too awful for words. All the time I painted these plates I kept thinking, "Something should be there. A plate shouldn't be empty." That's exactly how I feel about what is happening now.