Adapting and Waiting

When Covid-19 hit our community, the classes I’d been teaching to middle school kids were cancelled. I thought I’d spend my free time working non-stop in my studio. Prior to all the shutdowns and cancellations, I’d been on an energetic high and very productive, making work for upcoming shows in May and August.

But what I’d been expecting to happen did not happen. Instead I lost focus. My head has been foggy. Time is skewed with the parameters of work and errands and outer-world activities erased.

I go into the studio and try and fail to work. I cannot bring my body or my brain to focus. I’ve talked to other artists and creatives who are experiencing the same thing. .

My partner and I are self-isolating in our home in Providence, RI. We are fortunate to have a yard so I can spend time outside. Working in the yard has been very grounding. Tending to living things is therapeutic. We have chickens, dogs, and cats. I’m so grateful for their company and love. They have no idea what’s going on, they just need us to keep doing what we’ve always done for them, and that forces us to maintain a level of normalcy.

I am worried about the things that everyone is worried about - health and finances, and the health and finances of my loved ones; I’m worried about the world and what this is doing to already-vulnerable people. My coping mechanism is to focus on smaller things, because I cannot control so many larger things. So cleaning the house, painting rooms, raking the yard, keeping the pantry stocked (without hoarding) is therapeutic.

I’m writing more, making lists, and sketching. I mostly cleared the studio projects off my work table and wall. I’m giving the studio a fresh, bright white coat of paint.

My strategy right now is to work without trying to predetermine the meaning or future use of what I’m making. It’s not important to KNOW right now. Its important to be in the moment and receive whatever is coming through. It’s important to sit in the river and let the water do its thing around you, to observe the water, to be receptive to the lessons you might take from the water. Or to stand in the forest and listen to the trees - similar metaphor here. To just pause and not be in control, and not freak out about the loss of control. That alone will keep you occupied most days.