Since March, my world, like most people's, has gotten pretty small. I spend all of my days at home, wondering when I will wake from the very tumultuous nightmare I have been having. Except, it is not a bad dream any of us can wake out of. It is a global reality with so many complicated layers. We can be vigilant about protecting each other from the pandemic and from the hate that grows faster than the virus we fear. It is a time of reflection with many true catalysts for change. We are in the overwhelm together, and my hope is we will come out the other side with more hope, compassion and knowledge.
I gave up my art studio recently and have been grappling with how to express my creativity outside of the designated space I had gotten so accustomed to. Having planned the studio move-out pre-pandemic, I had been hoping to give painting a break in favor of a return to photography. Photo never leaves me, as I use my own source images in my paintings. I was looking forward to the immediacy of the camera over the brush and ready to dive right back in again. Not able to freely move within the urban environment I like to document, I played with beads; I drew; I toyed with watercolor; I wrote a thing or two. I stirred and wept, feeling like I couldn't find my voice and wondered what place it held in a world turned upside down.
Finally, I decided to stop spinning and started taking photos on my neighborhood walks. (My current locale is a bit more rural). At first, this was just with my phone, until Monday when I dusted off the camera. With my camera in tow, I am quiet, reflective, aware and the most myself.
If you blink too lazily, you can get caught sleeping, so why not move through life with eyes wide open?
I gave up my art studio recently and have been grappling with how to express my creativity outside of the designated space I had gotten so accustomed to. Having planned the studio move-out pre-pandemic, I had been hoping to give painting a break in favor of a return to photography. Photo never leaves me, as I use my own source images in my paintings. I was looking forward to the immediacy of the camera over the brush and ready to dive right back in again. Not able to freely move within the urban environment I like to document, I played with beads; I drew; I toyed with watercolor; I wrote a thing or two. I stirred and wept, feeling like I couldn't find my voice and wondered what place it held in a world turned upside down.
Finally, I decided to stop spinning and started taking photos on my neighborhood walks. (My current locale is a bit more rural). At first, this was just with my phone, until Monday when I dusted off the camera. With my camera in tow, I am quiet, reflective, aware and the most myself.
If you blink too lazily, you can get caught sleeping, so why not move through life with eyes wide open?
