It’s been over 6 weeks of physical isolation. The main door to our house is perpetually locked but our bedroom doors and walls have virtually collapsed into open, meandering spaces with dissolved boundaries. My studio upstairs is normally a myriad of ongoing drawings, sketches and ideas, peppered with trays of curing resin covered with dust tents. With my daughters home, the studio and other rooms have stretched and expanded, impregnated with multiple routines and functions. Gone are the precious, cloistered sessions of uninterrupted drawing. The new normal is ducking past Google meetings and Zoom calls, chopping up fruit snacks, finishing an area of a drawing, scanning the latest Covid 19 updates, giving impromptu drawing lessons. Calling out the oft-used expression, “Can you close the door on your way out?” is now a rarity, an outdated custom, a pre-pandemic luxury.
April 22, 2020