Commentary: Art isn’t a luxury. It’s what helped me through my hardest times.

The bronze bust of John Brown by Kansas sculptor Jim Brothers has the passion and movement of any Hellenistic masterpiece. Louis Copt’s painting of the Fox Creek Schoolhouse on the Kansas Tallgrass Prairie rivals the great Dutch master Johannes Vermeer’s “View of Delft.” The work of these fellow Midwesterners fires my imagination, inspires me, compels me to work harder, and pushes me to be a better teacher and writer.

Art is a catalyst in my life. It urges me from bed in the wee hours to plan a better way to convey some difficult concept to my students. It drives me to write, even when the words don’t come easily. Visual, literary, and musical art have pushed me to work and achieve my entire life. This has been especially true during the most trying times.

In the late ‘80s, fresh out of college, I started my first “real” job at an accounting firm, Laventhol & Horwath, in Philadelphia. Little did I know the firm was in dire straits. After eleven months I was laid off, and two months later the firm declared bankruptcy.

I was abruptly out of a job and unsure how I’d make rent. But I didn’t want friends or family to worry, so I kept my unemployment a secret.

In the morning, I dressed in a business suit like nothing was wrong and commuted to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where I found solace. I absorbed the tranquility of the Japanese teahouse, and the sheer age of the medieval cloister put my short-term problems in perspective.

I sat with the work of great American painters. Among Thomas Eakins, Henry Ossawa Tanner, William Harnett, Charles Wilson Peale and others, I chose my next path. Their work renewed me, giving me the strength to carry on, the courage to decline opportunities in the corporate world, and the confidence to choose a more difficult road.

Soon I found a job at the University of Pennsylvania. My objective was to go back to school, and I knew the job provided tuition benefits. At Penn, once again, I found art to be my chief motivator. The fine arts library was designed in the nineteenth century by the great American architect Frank Furness. His masterpiece inspired me to keep going.

Every time the pressures of full-time work and graduate school made me want to drop out, I went to Furness’ library. I’d study in the main reading room for hours, and when fatigue set in, I needed only to look up at the vaulted ceiling, the strange American mix of Gothic and Romanesque influences, the terra-cotta, the leaded-glass windows ringed with maxims of encouragement and aphorisms like “Talkers are no great doers.”

Then I’d return to my books, sometimes studying through the night.

That inspiration helped carry me through my studies and eventually to graduate school at the University of Kansas.

Art drives us through adversity. It is the stimulus package we need in hard times. My own experience taught me that art can provide comfort, perspective and inspiration when we need them most. And that is why access to art matters.

Too many American political leaders think they’re projecting pragmatism when they treat art as an amenity, a luxury that we can indulge in only when times are good.

Missouri Gov. Mike Kehoe cut state arts funding, while President Donald Trump’s administration has pursued cuts to federal arts and humanities programs. These decisions treat art as expendable, ignoring the role it plays in education, community life and individual well-being.

I know what art gave me when I was struggling. And I know I am hardly alone. Cutting support for the arts means fewer opportunities for others to find that same inspiration, particularly in communities where access is already limited.

Art is more than a luxury. It is a necessity, especially in difficult times. A society that values education, creativity and freedom should recognize that supporting the arts is not an indulgence. It is an investment in all three.