Shelter In Studio

It took me about 3 - 4 weeks into the quarantine to figure out how to make art and if I even wanted to make art. But now I am making small and quick art.

I had two large commissions that came in at the end of January; I finished one in February but I had to ask for an extension from the buyer for the second. I’m finally getting going on it.

My colors have shifted and are intense and brighter than before. I keep using a deep yellow / orange color in my work.

In early 2020, I had joined forces with an artist in North Carolina on a cool social practice collage project called The Collage Stop (@TheCollageStop). Meredith had solicited paper scrap donations from two collage artists - myself and Holly Cahill in Chicago. We sent our scraps to Meredith who then led a community collage making project in North Carolina. Meredith did a brilliant job facilitating the workshop and reported that there was something really magical for participants to work with our art materials; a lot of cool conversations happened around this project and we were ready to do more. I had the second event scheduled for Richmond in April. Meredith had sent me two bags of scraps just as shelter in place orders were being established. One bag was from Holly (an artist I’ve never met) and one bag was from Meredith (an artist I’ve met once). Opening these bags up and finding the marks, colors, and gestures left by other artists on these papers was the biggest gift. I also had received a set of papers from another artist I’ve never met in Brooklyn, who had sent me scraps from her sketchbooks. And my students had given me scraps they were done with after our last class together in March. I’ve been making a bunch of new work using these gifted and collected papers. I’m using all these bits and pieces from other artists during this time and it feels really good - like a conversation in color, and from a distance.

Yes. In fact, I have been super productive and have developed the drawings into a new body of work.

This period coincides with a flow situation that I have been in since the beginning of this year, when I started doing line drawings. It was triggered by a performance that I did in Victoria, British Columbia at the end of last year, for which I did a drawing as meditation on a wall.

Since I came home, I have been doing similar drawings on paper. The quarantine took place soon after that and it kept the distractions away and I have been burying myself in the studio doing these drawings. Since then I have developed it into a series of work based on a simple idea of "Draw A Line And Follow It". I'm still in the midst of that flow, which is really great.

The main challenge has been the inability to show works due to the Coronavirus. Several shows have been canceled, including a wall drawing performance in Oregon. On the other hand, because the show was canceled, I decided to do the wall drawing in my own studio and I like what happened.

The other difficulty is that I haven't been able to see friends. The lack of human contact has been hard.

Initially, the shutdown negatively effected my practice. The disruption of my daily habits lead to a decrease in motivation and drive, and I overestimated how much time I had in each day. Much of my time was spent doing other things and with the amount of extra time I had, I felt as if I had plenty of time to paint, so I didn’t work in the present. After about a month, this passed and I actively decided to dedicate a part of every day to painting.

For several years I have been working through a major transition in my work, especially regarding my emotional relationship with my process, and initially, things didn’t feel any different. I was frustrated and dissatisfied with what I was making. However the shutdown and all of this extra time I had catalyzed an awareness of a thought pattern that was influencing my every move when I was painting: I was always in a hurry. I always needed to be done, not doing, I was always behind. Others were achieving success and I had a lot of catching up to do. I was never fully engaged with my work; my head was always in the future and needed every painting to be done. I needed success. But now with all this extra time, no day job to go to, no deadlines for shows or applications... Why was I still hurrying? What's the rush? It was quite visceral when I had this "aha" moment, I literally had this cathartic wave of euphoria wash over my body and it made me laugh with relief. I realized how these thoughts were always running in the background, and how they had a direct impact on my emotional state while I was creating. I painted for a few hours that night and it felt quite effortless and enjoyable. It helped me get back in touch with the necessary presence, detachment, and playfulness that’s essential for creativity.

I wish I could say that my work has forever changed because of that one moment, but I still find myself going back to my old habits, feeling anxious and rushed. But thankfully I now have an awareness of my state of mind and am actively trying to maintain a healthier relationship with creating.

I disagree with the word "stuck". It has been great to have the distractions of tasks outside the home paused and I have felt pretty content staying in. While the stay at home order has been in place since March, I have been working in the studio steadily since I left my last job. I have been underemployed or self-employed for the past year and a half, so there has not been the Zoom meetings and other trappings of trying to work from home.

The adjustment has been in finding a rhythm and balance to the household chores and studio work time and family time. Sometimes that studio time is adjacent to the workout time and breakfast time and does not require a costume change! Cooking new things has become a more communal and creative act and provides the novelty that going out used to, and it feels like learning new things is a productive way to spend time.

While I have been fine with being at home, there is a visual richness that I am missing. I will be glad to get back to some regular day trips or even shopping that provides some novelty and inspiration. I am a sculptor mostly and depend on cast off things and materials for my work. I am steadily working off my back stock of wood, even making projects sized to fit the materials I have. I can mail order some hardware and tools, but it is a deprivation not to just hop out to the hardware store to look at options. Much like the grocery shopping, it is better done in person.

I was preparing for a couple of show opportunities this year, so I had a lot going on in the studio. I finished several pieces that were in progress at the time of the shutdown and began others that are in the same vein. At first, it seemed like a temporary slowdown and we would be back up and running in a few months. As the time has past and it appears more and more like our world has changed for the foreseeable future, I will need to rethink the necessity of making every piece I think of. I make things because I must, but not being able to share them in a real space with others would take some of the fun out of it.

Oddly, I had been writing a short story, and this whole plot twist of a pandemic is either in it or not. There will be no avoiding it except by dating the content. I need to decide whether to include this or ignore it and proceed as planned.

Too soon to tell. It took me more than a year to absorb 9/11 and even then, what I produced was fairly oblique to the tragedy; more of a response to the response.

I am resisting virus imagery as too facile and obvious, though I have used DNA strands and other "cell" type things in my earlier paintings. But eventually there will be some shorthand that will appear to represent the whole catastrophe.

What I have found is that I am working at a different pace. Because there is no real deadline or known easing of restrictions date, I am not pressured to finish which is sometimes hard for me. There are lots of starts and pauses while things get mulled over and decided before they are completed. I am also trying some different media, because I am feeling a bit crowded by sculpture. I am working on some photography projects and printmaking ideas. The less one makes, the more room there is for conceptual pieces that may exist only on social media. If we are all broadcasting from our bubbles, it could be a new theatrical renaissance in the artworld.

I feel exceedingly lucky to be in a position where I have a house and studio, a partner that I love. I have income and I don’t have to telecommute to keep afloat. I am semi-retired with some health challenges but overall, I am not suffering as greatly as some.

The main challenge has been keeping motivated and a positive attitude while the world rages around outside. I have to make stuff in the studio to keep it at bay. People are dying at an alarming rate and there is nothing I can do but stay at home and keep healthy? It seems an inadequate response. However, I have to believe that in the act of creation there is a replacement or replenishment of the spirits that we lose to the virus, conflict or old age. If we survive, and that remains in doubt, we have to live, love and create for the ones who did not fulfil their life’s work.

Before the shutdown, I had been examining older work and trying to place it in collections. With the extra time at home, I have begun cataloging more of it and sending out emails with images in the hopes that someone will take an interest. I have several bodies of work that never really got an airing in public and I am hoping to produce a book of some of my photography.

I am not sure if that is a success but reflection on the past is helpful in charting a forward direction. I also have uncovered sketchbooks with some dead ends that I would like to revisit so perhaps there is more change coming to my work. It certainly seems like a great time to take risks and go down a few rabbit holes to see what develops.

Perhaps the success is stopping to think about where we are now and what kind of a world are we stepping into from now on. We are appreciating the things we took for granted, like a crowded concert or art gallery or a dinner party with friends. The isolation we now seek as a safe refuge is becoming a constraint that we are not programmed for. We miss the interactions with other people, known and unknown, who are not wearing masks and who do us the human kindness of acknowledging us.

*Artist note: Answers are snapshots at the moment they were written.

I’m the mother of an eight-year-old and a one-year-old. I was the primary caregiver for both girls prior to quarantine,and worked part time for Sacramento State as a photography professor thanks to a collage of childcare from three different providers. My eight-year-old is in second grade at our local school. Now I am trying to homeschool my second grader and provide all the care for my baby, except for one day a week when we have retained one of our babysitters for a few hours. He lives alone and is a very responsible quarantin-er, and he’s working on his PhD, so he’s able to control how many people he sees. We’re essentially quarantining together with him. So I have almost no time where I can reliably work. The six hours a week I get on Fridays go toward a little exercise, some more focused time with my older daughter—because she’s really been struggling with all the changes in her life, and the loss of school and her teachers and her friends—and sometimes some house projects that I can’t do with the baby, grocery shopping, or a phone call to a friend, or a little bit of time drawing, painting and taking classes in watercolor and drawing.

I’m a social practice artist, and a photographer, so I’m not usually a mark maker. Even before quarantine, I had been feeling a strong urge to make work in a new or different way than I have in the past ten years or so. I came to the end of a series of projects that were all very similar, and it was a really positive, exciting end, and I wanted to take time after that to think about how I would embark on my next longer-term project, and how to really make sure the micro-level of making was different in it, as well as the theme and the overall structure. So now that I can’t put serious chunks of time into anything professional, it has felt great to try to learn some new skills by taking online classes—informally, through CreativeBug—and to go back to the kinds of playful making I used to do as a kid and a young adult. Basically, I’m treating art as a hobby at the moment, instead of as a profession, and that’s really fun and both novel and comforting. Although it’s very temporary—very much tied to this time where my baby can’t be left alone and I’m constantly on call for her. It’s also the sort of fallow period between big projects, where you start to gather yourself for the next one, both intellectually and energetically.

I’ve read lots of articles where parents describe their heroic patterns of working at night after their children are asleep... that’s just not a reality for me. I am not a night person—I get to about 7 pm after a full day of interacting with my kids and I can barely make a sentence anymore, let alone do complex intellectual, emotional or physical work. I always see art as the highest possible form of intellectual pursuit—not that it’s higher than other things, but that it’s equal to other things that we would think of conventionally as the height of complexity and skill. That doesn’t mean that every practitioner reaches the highest expression of the form, but I always want to be working toward that as a goal. So that’s not something I want to tackle while brain-dead. And I feel pretty silly noodling around with watercolor and when I have no real skills in that department, and definitely no complexity or subtlety. But I also believe in finding ways to make yourself happy, following intuition, and trying to preserve mental health as both a person in quarantine and as a parent, so I’m trying to stifle the judgement and just allow myself to have fun. Learning this kind of skill and doing small works on paper are also things I can be interrupted in and still come back to without losing my place, so to speak. So they are really fitting in with my current limitations. And I can these things with my older daughter, which feels great and helps me support her learning.

I miss working a lot. I definitely worry about my professional momentum, and have moments where I wonder what’s going to emerge from this time. I am certainly not immune to existential professional doubt. (And fear and anxiety in general.) But those things pale in comparison to my awareness of the extreme privilege I am speaking from. I have had—and continue to have—so many choices in both my personal and professional life, and so much support from my family. Nothing about my concerns compares to the job insecurity, food insecurity, home insecurity, and health insecurity that most people are dealing with in one way or another right now. My biggest day to day worry is keeping my mental health good, so that I can be a good mom and support my girls appropriately as we all get through this. I think everyone is having to work hard to find mental and emotional and physical health right now—some people amidst extreme adversity. And any one of us could be on the brink of seeing our lives turned upside down, or even end abruptly.

I have an ongoing practice of photographing my children in nature, and during certain moments of their childhoods that say something about my parenting, their environment, or their personalities. That’s something I developed when I was first home with my older daughter, when she was a baby. So that’s seamlessly woven into my daily life and I am always making new work to a certain extent through that modality. Though it has a very limited scope and audience—I just post those pictures to a private Instagram account.

I’m also constantly researching. I’m thinking about a new project now, so I’m looking at things interest me that could tie into it, and learning about other artists, ideas and resources that could help me once I really begin the work.

I’ve also been making these small works on paper, mostly in the form of cards I send to friends and family. I’ve toyed with the idea of making them printable, so that I could release them to a wider audience, but I haven’t moved ahead with that yet.

• Zero professional relevance outside the home.
• A worry that I am not helping my community enough at this difficult time.
• Maintaining energy and creativity amidst the demands of my domestic work.
• Not being able to work at all as a professional.

I paint more small pieces rather than large ones.

I practice more calligraphy than before. Almost everyday I practice heart sutra or zen words.

I creating my art hoping we will regain our healthy world as soon as possible.

Yes, I co-founded a virtual studio visit project that uses community raised funds to pay artists and arts organizers who have been financially impacted by COVID-19. The project is called TBD Salon. We partner with arts non profits to help us raise funds for each studio visit and work with artists and arts organizers across the country. You can find out more info here: https://tbdsalon.cargo.site/.

I've also begun working on a staff art show for SFMOMA staff members. It will be online and we are looking into staff members being able to sell their work listed on a separate website from the museum website. It will include SFMOMA staff who have been laid off; it's still in progress and has not launched. But, we are hoping to instill a sense of community and support through this effort.

Yes, one exhibition I was curating was postponed to an undetermined time frame. The exhibition was to open at the Knockdown Center in New York in June 2020. Given the location and the unpredictability of the virus right now, the staff at the Knockdown are unable to provide a new opening date for the show, which I completely understand. I'm just happy that they haven't cancelled the show entirely. The decision made me hold off from working any more on the exhibition like shipping artworks, loan agreements, or exhibition layout details.

I was also invited to my first writing group. It has allowed me to explore more creative forms of writing and find an outlet for all of what I'm experiencing right now with a supportive group of friends. It feels good to provide feedback for their work and see them grow.

My mother was diagnosed with 4th stage pancreatic cancer about 3 weeks into the shelter in place mandate. The reality for her extended family and friends to see her has been incredibly difficult because we don't want the virus to spread, but also want her closest people to say their goodbyes. For me, I'm trying to dig myself out of a dark place with the news of her illness as well as the bleak outlook of the future in the coming year or years due to the pandemic. I have been full time care taking and it has limited the time and emotions I am able to put into the projects I mentioned above.

I'm also in an uncertain time with my employment at SFMOMA. It was just announced that the museum will be making another round of staff layoffs, and I am unsure where I stand in those decisions. I won't know until next week. I feel like I've worked really hard to get to the position I'm in and will feel pretty lost in regards to next steps if I am laid off. The decision by the museum has also left the staff feeling really disappointed and the morale is really low. Beyond the staff art show, I am struggling to find ways to support my colleagues while also preserving my mental health amongst my sadness with my mother's illness.

I've been asking my mother to tell me about her life, in short segments, and I record the conversations. I'm not sure what I'll do with all the content, but perhaps it can find a way into my curatorial practice. It seems to give me hope that I have these recordings.

For TBD Salon, many people and organizations who we have reached out to have said "yes" to working with us. It's an incredible feeling to know that folks see this project as worthwhile and want to grow it with us. It has also been a way for me to reconnect with people who in turn have supported me emotionally through this tough period with my mother's illness. It has been an incredible support system. At this point in time we have raised $975 for artists and arts organizers! I'm so enlivened by my community and desire to continue to connect.

I've focused more on listening to my own instincts as an artist, rather than "what the community wants", which can get to be an overpowering voice when you work as a community-based artist.

I'm also producing some work focusing on public health, which is a new topic for me.

My son and I installed a 5 day temporary mural on Earth Day in a nearby park. It has lasted about a month. It's a new medium (tempera and clay paint) for me, and I never would have made time for the project if we hadn't been on Shelter-in-Place.

I moved outside my comfort zone by collaborating with musicians to create a the #earthdaysingout, a series of videos from musicians sheltering-in-place about caring for the Earth. These videos reached over 1500 people, creating a sense of unity and community gathering at a time when we cannot gather.

I've been able to use my privilege as an artist with a strong working relationship with a local funder to apply for already-allocated arts funds and release them, though a grant I'm administering, to artists suffering from economic need, through both the #earthdaysingout and another project called "Street Art for Health and Resilience". Putting this money back into the community, in projects that combine economic relief with creating relevant new artwork, has been satisfying. It's also been my first experiments in arts administration, from which I am learning a lot from!

I stopped painting for 6 weeks. I sat on the back porch and stared at the garden. I got a dog and poured loved into it. I recognized the inconsequential nature of my work. I had always longed for a period of time like this to work, but when it came, I couldn't do anything. Now I am getting back to it. I have signed on to some great workshops and that has given me entry back into the studio. I feel like I am going to be doing something new and different. I am trying to get back to the rich and joyful experience of painting now. I am working in a structured way like I am a student.

I started giving paintings away via social media.

I have watched a lot of Art 21 and Louisiana TV art interviews.

I have looked at a lot of my old work and feel strong affection for it... it's BC - before covid. Hopes, paths and pursuits were so different then.

I’ve produced a surprisingly large amount of work so far. The commissions are embroidered patches based on images from art history. I seriously started embroidering about a year ago, so there is still a lot for me to learn about my relationship to the techniques. I’m making about 3 patches a week, so this project has been a good means for me to quickly improve and extend my skills in the medium. Also, it’s always a pleasure to return to art history.

In my own practice, I've been doing a lot of research into psychoanalysis and finishing up a new body of work. I’ve been working on a series of embroidered tapestries called "Once There Was, Once There Wasn't", focusing on the labor of healing mechanisms and the persistence of trauma. I'm looking forward to seeing all the work together, but also to start the next endeavor—-I feel new ideas bubbling.

In my practice, I am always making new work as experimentation is part of my process.

I took an online workshop with Giselle Hicks to learn more about coil building. Coil building is the meditative process of pinching clay to build up, you can spend hours pinching, I find soothing repetition to be a very useful technique during this hard time. To alleviate anxiety I have started pinching large shallow bowls which I find very calming.

A big challenge has been imagining what the future will look like and how that is affecting my daily life. Before I always was working towards a goal, now I have less things to look forward to. I am fortunate to have my partner working from home but we are not sure how long this will last. So much is unknown.

Another big challenge has been seeing the effects of this virus on my community. Every person I see has a scared stricken look that gives their face a sallow palor. I am seeing people's health effected by sadness and it makes me sad. I see the same effects in the mirror.

Luckily, I have great roommates and I also have access to my studio. It's definitely been an anxious time but I'm grateful to still be in the studio.

Yeah I've been creating a lot. Working mainly on two different bodies of work right now.

Yeah but my work is always changing. I revisited some older styles in order to paint at home early on in quarantine. The work has been influenced by internal and external dialogues so as conversations change, environments often follow.

Being around friends and community. I love hosting friends at the studio and often work while in conversation so I miss that. Navigating upcoming shows and projects that have been postponed or canceled has been a source of anxiety. Access to materials has also been a little bit of a challenge.

Staying focused and inspired.

It did in the beginning. It was difficult to concentrate but I still continued to go into my studio. Even just sitting and staring makes me feel more grounded.

Yes my work has not been impacted. In fact it feels like I am making even more work. I feel even more cognizant of time and how it's such a precious commodity.

No.

 I miss seeing my other artists friends - for coffee or having them over for a visit to chat about my work or their work.

I feel grateful that my studio is in my house and I can just get out of bed, in my pajamas, walk into my studio and start to work. I also live with my best friend/husband and he is also an artist. So we have been able to continue to support each other.

I have really been forced to sit still and examine my practice. There is no excuse now, "no time" doesn't  apply since its all I had. I was able to make the things I wanted to while looking at the way my life had changed - what now I introduced to my life that wasn't before.

Oh, a ton! Quite a few pieces, not sure if anyone will ever see them, but I have made a lot of work.

I taught myself how to airbrush, which is way outside of my normal way of working. I am a sculptor and a photographer so painting is not something I dealt with - however, it was the catalyst for what I eventually ended up making. Painting was low stakes for me and allowed me to work quickly and learn a new way of seeing with the transparency found in airbrushing, it also got me to expand how I create and make - being in my body a different way rather than the way I am in my body when I am making my very labor intensive

Daily motivation. It's very easy to get inside yourself and in your head in a time like this rather than be in your body. I find myself running full steam ahead for a few days then binging Netflix for a few.

My successes have been reminding myself I am still creative, that exercises in making don't have to be do or die - that there is a freedom in being an artist. This time has really allowed me to remember I am a maker and an artist as well - I have really stepped back from my making process in the past two years - my mindset was very disconnected with my art and my practice. I have reconnected with my practice, although very painful at times, I have reconnected none the less.

As an artist who’s practice has focused in the public realm, combining methodology that engages the viewer with societal inquiry along with social, interactive platforms, COVID-19 has presented many challenges. Social practice and community based methodology during COVID-19 has changed the landscape of how this work can be conducted in a profound way. The notion of engaging a participant in a public setting during today's new challenges are as abstract and unrealistic as going to your favorite restaurant. With these new challenges comes self reflectiveness in one's practice as well as the need to recalculate one's methods and objectives regarding a project.  

Public space has turned into a necessity, especially during this global crisis.  With the various interpretations of re-opening that city leaders are imparting on its citizens and George Floyds tragic death,  we have seen a wave of citizens taking back the streets.  I believe public space can still act as a connector for community, but questions remain involving how a social practice artist can do this in a safe and appropriate manner. We have started to see artist responses already, which has manifested in murals that have beautified our communities since the death of George Floyd. Yes murals have been a major aspect of public art, but the amount of community creativity and passion being displayed during COVID-19 and George Floyd’s brutal murder has amplified story telling and creativity as a way for community to connect in a public realm.

I have been deeply considering my own practice through writing, brainstorming, and reading. The stay at home order has allowed me to take the time to be reflective on my practice. Do I have definitive answers for what this means for my practice? No, I do not, but that is ok. I still remain as productive and creative as ever, while I work through these larger questions of my work in relation to these new realities of pandemic diseases and important fights for equality. Community based public methods will change and I am excited to keep working out what that will mean for me and my practice.

I have taken the past three months to search for these answers and have made some exciting creative strides. My studio and my house have been the main places I have gone during the stay-at-home order. The studio has allowed me to dive into new sculpture, set pieces, and painting projects that I have been interested in doing but had no time to execute. I have created a series of mobile billboards that can be deployed in the streets, along with a new sculptural set piece that furthers work I've been doing with housing issues in the Bay Area. This is not to say that my other projects have gone away! I've been busy with these as well, which includes drawing portraits of immigrant women chefs in Cincinnati to more poster making and video work. It has been a productive and creative time and the new work is propelling my practice in a wonderful new direction.

I would not say the work has changed, it has just shifted to adapt to this new world that we find ourselves in. This shift will allow us as artists to really experiment, thinking about innovative ways to conduct our work with these new restrictions. I find that exciting and scary at the same time. This shift will continue to push me in new directions and I have allowed myself to be open to that.

One challenge for myself and my work has been the lack of human connection on a day to day basis. I thrive on these human connections and the use of Zoom and FaceTime, although fine, does not replace interacting with a person. As our communities open up, we will soon see more of each other, but the handshake and the hug is replaced with distance. This is a necessity, but also sad for me knowing that these acts of human connection are gone four us at this moment.

Another larger challenge has been the cancelation and reshuffling of exhibitions, grants, teaching, etc, which sustains my art practice and creativity. The unknown from month to month has created unknown in the world of exhibits, grants, and teaching. These are my passions as well as a revenue stream for myself and my work. I am currently working on new ways to address this gap and will continue to do this over the course of the year.

My main success is the quality time I can give to my creativity and art practice during the stay-at-home order. My studio practice has shifted slightly allowing for my new work to emerge and that has been exciting to develop. It has also been wonderful to spend more quality time with my wife, which has been challenging in the past because of our busy lives. The combination of these two things has brought me happiness.

It’s difficult to say. On a practical level, I’ve moved my studio to my apartment. So, I’ve been working at home, which creates various logistical challenges and benefits. In terms of content and execution, being at home hasn’t at this point changed the work itself. It may in the future, as I am thinking more about how to incorporate more everyday contexts for my videos, which usually have more formal and fanatical settings.

Yes, I have completed some costumes for what was supposed to be a new performance. I am continue to prototype haptic electronic sound modules. I am creating a new video piece for the Wattis.

I’ve had to restructure what was supposed to be a live performance into a short video. My practice is only sometimes collaborative and I was supposed to be spending this time working with dancers, choreographers, musicians, and a composer. But all of this in on hold.

I have had a number of exhibitions, residencies, and jobs cancelled or postponed. The challenge is that in working in performance and installation, the work is typically not completed until the exhibition or event. So, I have projects that I have been working on that will not have a fully realized completion until life resumes. This ultimately effects the future progression of my work, as completed projects and the documentation that they produce lead to future grants and exhibitions.

I was asked to create a short video segment for a fundraiser and shot and edited the video in my apartment in a day. Making this video quickly and in a barebones ways was a very refreshing and new process for me. Normally it takes me a very long time to make work. Also, making this video demonstrated to me that even in these weird times there’s still a desire for some levity and joy.

Being a parent to young kids, I have been unable to find the usual quiet art-making time. So I decided to move into one of our bedrooms and create a studio space. I allowed only the materials I needed to create new work in there. A sort of minimalist temple to art making. The forced quarantine carved out a space for reflection and creation. Things that were hard to come by with the social pressures and engagements of the world we left behind. I am grateful for the time. 

Yes. I was committed to a show this summer, so I got to work within a few weeks of adjusting to the shelter in place ordinance.

I'm a slow and cautious artist. But this time around, my work was created in a frantic pace, with a burst of creative energy - as though I was trying to capture each moment before before it slipped though my fingers, while being chased by the demons of uncertainty. I was trying to capture every color and story onto my canvases. 

My palette was unfiltered and raw. I couldn't bring my self to use my usual restraint. Once I finished the pieces for my show, I have been unable to work anymore. I have a blank canvas waiting there for me now. It has been weeks. I feel as though I'm now mourning for the life that once was.

I worked without fear of judgement. I worked fast and furious. I worked because an inner voice told me that's how I would tell my story. And that I couldn't stop. For the sake of my sanity. It was an escape that was sweet and glorious for as long as it lasted.

I feel so much longing for spatial and tactile dimensions - it has made me realize something essential about myself and about the physicality of my work. I had to leave a residency when the orders came down. I had shot some video there, but have not touched it since because I don’t want to be on a screen longer than I need to right now.

At the very beginning I worked in a corner of my living room, moving between small watercolor drawings, reading and writing. I worked in short bursts punctuated by helping my 13 year olds get accustomed to school at home, and hearing dimensions of their lives that I am normally not exposed to. After a month of quarantine, I was able to go back to my studio where I work alone, to work on larger paintings.

I have also been in touch with people I have not seen in a long time and found myself working with them on projects. I have been having intense conversations that feed into my work.

Yes- I’ve made some new drawings and paintings, a very short video about visioning a different future and an online exhibition.

I’ve also been developing ideas, writing proposals/applications and doing more exploratory writing for myself.

I think so but its hard to say exactly how just yet- I’d say” this period” is still happening.

Prior to the arrival of Covid, I had started fundraising and development on a video/performance project called ‘Ensemble for Non-Linear Time’ that uses speculative fiction to explore experiences of rupture in ways that expand agency and imaginative capacity.  I am proposing to do this work with dancers and a community cast.  My experiences of rupture during this time, due to personal circumstances, the collective impacts of covid19 and the uprisings for racial justice, leads me to understand the spirit of this work in new ways.

In my more private studio work/painting practice, I became interested in making a type of ‘still life’ which is a surprising place to find myself. I need to embody the longing I feel, the sense of living in suspended animation, the lack of certainty for the foreseeable future. I think I am am also responding to a range of conditions; from spending so much time at home and seeing people through screens in their homes, to mortality being front and center every day and the fear of infection that interrupts touch.

There is something beautiful that lives alongside the discomfort.

There are material things- I have not been able to do the printing I had planned or attend scheduled residencies. My studio mate had to move out and that left me paying more rent than I can afford, so I’m moving studio. But these feel very minor in the grand scheme of things.

All the emotions - fear, worry, uncertainty, grief, anger, being politically at wits end. Too much time with social media but feeling a need to stay present. Trying to find ways to engage and act without putting people in my home or elsewhere at risk.  I’ve felt worried for the kids, and also so proud of them.

And the longing, so much of it.

I’m not sure I know yet what will unfold as successful - but the elongated timelines of postponed residencies and exhibitions feels in some ways like a luxury. The weirdness of now makes it clear to me how my work connects to my sense of survival (personal and collective), as well as desire and the essential role of visionary tools. I am not doing entirely different things, but I feel and understand what I am doing differently - out beyond the labels we give it, and perhaps more deeply — which I think is a kind of success.

I have  connected with some old and new friends in ways that feel very important, in terms of generating ways to move forward and make better futures.

I've modified my practice into a small desk and have been working on smaller water based works. I'ts been limiting, but in a positive way. Having fewer choices of what to make has led to a buildup of ideas and less distrations in general. Additional, I've always found time to show an interest in audio/video work, but the current situation has inspired a more balanced attention toward that as well.

Yes.

If anything, it's make me think more about what work actually should be made.

I was slated to participate in a residency in France during the month of April which obviously had to be postponed. Beyond that, it has been tough not being able to work in oils without access to my studio.

Surprisingly, I have received several commissions including one which will be the largest painting I have made to date. Although my exhibition schedule is on pause, my activity is thriving.

I have had more time to devote to making work. Being creative is one of my best strategies for dealing with uncertainty and difficult times. One of the first things I did when I heard that the shelter-in-place order had come out for my town was to immediately dive into working on a film project that I had planned on shooting in my yard.

Yes, I have created or completed more new work in this period than at any time since Grad School.

Yes and no. I work in photography, film and performance. I had a performance scheduled a couple days before the SIP orders came out. That was cancelled, and there haven't really been many opportunities since then for that type of work. My performances are interactive, so they don't translate well into a video chat environment. In terms of film and photography, the quarantine has given me a lot of extra time to focus on creating and completing work that is very involved and that I wouldn't normally have time for. That part has been a huge plus for me.

The biggest challenge has been deciding which idea to go forward with. I have more creative ideas than I have time for, even now. Sometimes it is difficult to decide which one I need to work on at which time.

The secondary challenge is financial. Though I now have time, I don’t have a great of deal funds on account of also being mostly unemployed. Fortunately I have the time to find workarounds and alternate ways of doing things. Helping my daughter navigate 3rd grade online was also a challenge.

I have been very excited about completing a number of long-term art projects that have been waiting for me to finish them up. Some of them are very complicated pieces that I conceptualized almost a decade ago, before I had access to computers that were powerful enough to complete them. The extra time this period has given made it possible to dive in and create workflows that would let me bring these to completion. I was also able to spend time finalizing several bodies of work, which is a big relief.

In looking at how I chose to spend my time and how several other artists have chosen to spend theirs, I am reminded that we do these things because we really want to do them. Even when everything else is closed down, we are still creating new works, which strikes me as a beautiful thing.

I haven't been "stuck at home" per se. I have a small shop/studio that I rent that allows me the space to work and not be confined necessarily. So much of my work is done on my own that I didn't have to stay at home too much.

I haven't created new work really, but have had the time to revisit old projects and focus on myself and my health more. 

As I said in the last question, I've been revisiting old work. A lot of my current and recent work really puts focus on my work as a tradesperson and am heavily influenced by the working class, and the tools and materials that are experienced in the common persons life. One way I feel I've been doing this is by returning to an old project car that I've had for about 13 years. I did a lot of the main work to it in a high school auto shop class and as of recently, with isolation and free time through lack of work and collecting unemployment with a little government bonus, I've had the time and some funding to put some work into it. I think as an artist, I've been looking for a way to call it (the car) an art piece, or part of a practice. In some ways I'm in the "Damián Ortega" portion of this build where I have the engine completely disassembled to rebuild it due to finding metal chunks in the oil pan.

As I work on it, I've been listening to "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert M. Pirsig. I'm appreciating the metaphysical qualities of diving into a machine that had other people working on it before. From a group of people in a factory to the person who worked on it as a project before me to myself and the things I did 10+ years ago as a teenager, just learning about machines. Getting lost in time while cleaning the road Gunk off of a 60 year old engine is a trip. 

I have some mental health struggles and the complete lack of socializing has been rough and at times have felt very alone even with a partner and a dog companion. But solitude brings about some benefits like in where my mind and work is going I believe.

I quit drinking right before my 28th birthday on March 1st. So I think that I'm pretty stoked about that. The solitude and confinement and stress of the world was a difficult place to be but I'm glad I got and remained sober throughout it. I feel like I've been thriving in this chaotic time-space.

I miss the Shadelands Printmaking studio. They have an etching press and I was able to prepare my copper and poly plate and print them in the same location. I can still work on plates at home but I cannot run proofs to check the progress of the image or make editions of my etchings.

I gathered together and organized my scrap printmaking paper and began working on some new collages. I also got a small Gelli plate and I have been making monoprints with acrylic paint.

My collages have become more complex and somewhat wild with either black and white papers or very bright papers. I like taking a chaotic pile of scrap paper, cutting it, pasting it, and possibly drawing or painting on it. It is one way of making sense out of this strange new world we live in.

I also began a series of monoprints called "Little Houses". The iconic style houses are all the same shape and color but most of them are tilted or askew in some way.

I enjoyed the camaraderie of printing with a group of people. It's nice to have a second opinion when the work is in progress. It is harder to get motivated when I am working at home by myself.

I have filled one sketchbook and also finished a selection of larger works that seem to be trending towards organic landscapes and abstract pieces that focus on color and texture.

Sheltering in place has been grounding and confrontational. The change in time and space due to our healing crisis has allowed reflection and the opportunity to focus on rebuilding systems that do not function or are out of balance.

I've been using the space to create a new flow, spending more time exploring meditation; recently adding chanting --Kirtan to my daily practice. I have always wanted to bring Ashram living to my studio space and by being sheltered I've been able to create a retreat-like environment. Since this shift I noticed my dreams have been more vivid, I've had an abundance of time and energy, and I've been more open-hearted towards myself and others; a true blessing of growth in my relationship, spiritual, and creative space.

The first month of sheltering was focused on grants, funding, and optimizing the studio for online functionality on the web. The second month I focused on revamping the California studio, building removable air lock walls, reorganizing storage, and clearing the office. The third month I received many of the supplies I ordered and was able to set up and prepare for new projects. I am now working on a new sculpture and painting series.

It has changed in a way that I feel more clear about my vision and my trajectory. I am excited for projects to become realized. New growth and exploration has sprouted a finer quality of upgrades. Integrating new standards and feeling how all is connected has been powerful. I imagine my art practice over the years looking like a funnel form where all is distilling into a concentrated potent point.

The biggest challenge has been around staying balanced with all of the uncertainty, fear of change and loss within our community. Some days I have to grieve, to let the heavy energy move through me. There are days I have to do nothing and be in deep rest. Hot baths, listening to mindful meditations, and enjoying wholesome foods have been helpful. Other challenges have been sourcing materials for the studio as art stores have been closed, delayed projects, and cancelled exhibits. Though I think using all these set-backs to propel us is necessary.

Some successes have been generating sales, optimizing the office and setting up the studio for new work. All of the change has been foundational. At the beginning of the year I opened a second studio in Brooklyn, New York where I've been able to create a more modular studio for projects to have mobility. Having a satellite studio has enabled more access and connection to the East coast and overseas.

Overall I am feeling a new center of balance and strength. My goal is to continue to maintain focus and awareness to nourish inspiration and connection to our planet, to our human race, and to our mind, body and spirit. Art has been an incredible vehicle of expression for the love and fear we have inside. It is a beautiful dance.

It's given me a good deal of time to organize years' worth of drawings and prints into portfolios. The concrete floor in my garage studio has just been replaced, and I can soon move my etching press back into the space and return to work.

I have not felt much of a creative spark during this time, though I do find comfort in making the small architectural drawings that I call doodles. I will carve large linocuts from these images, which I was experimenting with before the Shelter in Place order.

My main work will remain the same, which is drawing and printmaking from observation, but I've started collaborating with my 9-year old self. My parents saved lots of my childhood drawings, and now I'm creating collages on canvas using those pictures. I used to draw men's fashion – lots of patterned clothing and sideburns, and also baseball players. It's been a really fun project.

Getting organized!

Getting organized!

In these months "sheltering in place," the practice of making art became a kind of a "tent," for me; it's been my refuge, through this time of precarity.

The "tent" is fragile; fear is the antithesis of creative flow, and I have my share of fear these days… I'm afraid for those with no capacity to "shelter:" the dispossessed, the priced-out, all those inhabiting the tent cities on the street where I live, and throughout this boarded-up city. All the prior problems of San Francisco are more starkly exposed than ever in this pandemic. There is so much systemic change needed, it can feel overwhelming.

The task for me as for so many has been to continue working despite so much cancelled and on hold. I had three shows scheduled for this spring and summer, and two are postponed due to covid-closures. Continuing to work feels like a magical performance, one requiring a suspension of disbelief: if I keep creating as though the world will come back... will it come back? Can we will it to come back? I also fear "the world coming back." I'm afraid there will be an undertow pulling us to return to that strange culture dubbed "normal life." I don't believe that we can… And what will it mean to work as an artist, with so much of the context potentially in question?

I admit that through it all, I've been reveling in the silent city, waking up to (actual/imagined) urban-coyote-calls-before-dawn. And I've been thanking my lucky stars for my interior worlds: for my art practice.

I've been developing new elements of a very long-term project, a multi-media installation. One four-month exhibition is still scheduled to open in September, at a Native American museum in Washington State, and preparing a new incarnation of the work for that show sustains me.

I'm finessing the design for a floor-to-ceiling photo-collage, to assemble with the community on-site/in the gallery. I've been working collaboratively with Bay Area artist Stacey Goodman on a set of animations for a sequential floor-projection. Remote-collaboration has its challenges, but I love what we are creating together. And I have one new project, a bridge to next possibilities, just beginning. It celebrates migration and bodies-in-motion, so it promises to be an antidote to the stay-in-place, restricted mode-of-the-moment.

I'm not sure yet if the work itself has changed; it's such a long-term project, it's hard to tell that so soon. The work is political, it deals with the nuclear predicament, that out-of-scale monster looming out of the frame; it deals with history through people's collected narratives. In this isolation, there definitely is a heightened sense of connectivity I feel, through this work.

I've been calling this time "Shattering In Place," and the image in my mind's eye is a fractured windshield: the car, yesterday's sine qua non... the shattered shield still suspended, shards tenuously hanging in place and waiting to tumble... What will hold, and what will fall apart into pieces?

So how to keep balance, in the suspense of this time? Some days there's a sense of liberation and focus, but some days, it has been truly hard to proceed.

Finding all of my self-reliance: can we consider that one kind of success?

The best thing during this time was being invited to submit a book proposal and finalizing that contract. I'll be making a monograph for publication in 2021 from this project that developed over several years. I'm just very thankful, in these times of tenuousness, to have that prospect ahead.

To be perfectly honest, my art practice before the pandemic had become spotty. Most of my creative energies were split between co-running an art space with friend and fellow artist, Jen Merrill and my day job contracting as a lead preparator at an arts institution in Napa as well as hustling for on-call work with different Bay Area art handling companies. I spent many hours in the car as well as on site, which left me little in the way of energy and time for my own practice. The one bright spot has been co-running the space with my friend. The pandemic gave me a chance to re-evaluate how I've structured the other part of my life, or more to the point, how I haven't structured it. Schlepping day in and day out was not the plan, but then again I didn't really have a plan. Actively choosing art and gathering the gumption to truly make it the central axis of my life has been the big change for me; getting my head screwed back on straight about my priorities and values.

I've been slowly getting back to it. Just as the pandemic started my mom passed away. I've spent time since mid-March processing that, but I have started some things in the studio. I've also identified some ways I might be able to use some aspects of my practice in a commercial venture. I'm now actively taking steps to create and launch a side business that hopefully will augment my income and creatively compliment my studio practice. I'm in the building steam phase for that part.

In small ways it's continued to evolve. The biggest change has been an evolving clarity about the paintings I've been doing since 2013. I made a big switch in direction at that time, returning to sculpture, and almost from the start the decision process for how I go about making the sculptures was pretty clear. It was how the switcheroo impacted my 2D work that's been harder to understand. The mental free space the pandemic has opened up has allowed me to see more clearly where that work is headed.

One of my big challenges is that I have almost too many things started. Keeping it all on track, time management. Especially trying to develop and start a creative commercial venture in tandem with the studio work. I'm used to working efficiently to meet insane external demands thrown at me by other people, it's harder to focus and make it all hum like clockwork when it's just yourself.

Getting back up when I fall down. Adopting the concept of beginner's mind really helps!

I've been productive in small ways by completing projects started as teaching demos for my two ceramic classes at Cosumnes River College: Beginning Wheel Thrown Ceramics and Clay Sculpture. Midway through the semester, my classes were canceled, as well as the summer clay sculpture class. Being 100% online in the Fall, I was only offered a General Sculpture class. They've eliminated all ceramic offerings. It felt like the rug was pulled out from underneath me, particularly because I restructured my classes to run online for the rest of spring and felt confident that I could provide a challenging curriculum: yes, different from expectations, but enriched nonetheless. The lack of support from administration has been gut punch. I mourn the fact that the support is nonexistent for ceramics in particular, and that the arts in general have had to bear the brunt of cuts. Is there a future for ceramic programing at this institution?

Now that the smaller works started during the semester are complete, I have been able to finish two large pieces created during an artist residency last summer (mainly refinement of plaster). My goal is to continue to develop these mixed media works once I have finished organizing and cleaning my studio. I crave a white wall to suspend large drawings from and clear my head and studio of the clutter. I am grateful for the flexibility of time the pandemic has afforded. Looming will be the need to develop my online Fall class. For now, I am going to try to take care of myself.

Yes, most definitely my work has been more about completing loose ends rather than committing to breaking ground for new work. I'll get there, hopefully soon, but a nesting instinct has kicked in before I can begin afresh. There is a lingering feeling of futility and personal insignificance that is most trying. Perhaps it is my way of dealing with all of the loss around us and thoughts on the transience of life. There are so many big battles to fight it is overwhelming. I've also been more politically charged, attending rallies and addressing local politicians to try to make a positive difference. 

How can one mourn and be one of the lucky ones (no illness, wonderful family – though all on the east coast, enough funds to weather the downturn)? But never have I felt so inconsequential, insignificant, and disposable. I'm making all this stuff that has weight and takes up space where as the world is favoring the lightning speed of ethernet over the tangible human touch. This has been the biggest challenge of my life because at 62, I don't feel resilient to redefirect my passions for teaching and making. Spending hours in front of a screen makes me feel unhealthy. That is why I turned to clay after a ten year career in book/graphic design out of college. 

I haven't felt stuck at home because I am surrounded by a bountiful yard, with colorful blooming flowers and plants that I've nurtured after pulling up the grass three years ago. Since March, I have instinctively sought wonder and pleasure in the landscape both by planting more edible and flowering plants, and also by creating flavorful dishes and desserts to share with my "husband" of 20+ years. It must be a nesting, burrowing instinct. His life has hardly changed except that he is back to a daily 25 mile bike ride. Otherwise, his nose is to the creation and repair of bowed stringed instruments. 

As an artist-run exhibition space that focuses on supporting the experimental projects of local and regional artists, as well as trying to foster a community of support for this type of practice, our biggest challenge has been thinking of ways we can continue to host energetic openings in the age of COVID-19. The openings bring support for the art and artists, and are dependent on the energy of the crowd, who bring anticipation, excitement, conversation, and a lot of dialog to the space. Many people hang out until well past the official close of the evening, filtering back and forth between the installation and the reception. This is only possible because TGTG is located on Jefferson's home property - it was a literal garage before it became his workshop & studio, and later The Garage on the Grove.

We've been busy ramping up our programming to be year round, starting with artists Vincent Pacheco and Jodi Connelly this Fall. Moving ahead means we have to try to tackle the issues of COVID and social distancing for our openings in a way that is as safe as possible, compliant with public health recommendations, and authentic to what our space is all about. We've partnered with friend of the Garage, artist Steve Briscoe, to help us design spaces that comply with safety protocols and that can be installed all over the property - little corrals people can hang out in all night with their quarantine pods.

As a separate project, we're launching a semi-annual zine called rvrsEDGE (river's edge) with help from friends of the Garage, artists Peter Foucault, and Tom & Erin Betthauser.

Both Jen and Jefferson have project management backgrounds, as do Peter and Steve. This has all come into play big time with the new projects we've launched in response to COVID, so tapping these day job skills is definitely a change in the way we work. Much time is spent on creating google sheets and folders on share drives - something that we never bothered with before for TGTG. Zoom, of course, also has a big role in our process now!

Not burning out on meetings.

Keeping momentum on our idea to somehow merge COVID compliance with the social aspect of TGTG openings. It's been daunting. The range of solutions are generally expensive or ineffective for our purposes, but we've committed to finding that balance

I am a mom of a one year old who spends most of my time with him. I work part time, from home. So it's probably affected my art practice (which is also my job) less than many. I spent a lot of my time at home before. But being stuck at home has also overlapped with the incredible whiteness-unraveling-BIPOC-uprising that is happening in the so-called USA right now, and that has affected my practice in excellent ways. There's been a breakdown in any areas of my life / our collective life that were business-as-usual, unconscious or unexamined. The examination, the seeing and transforming new layers is intense, welcome, sorrowful, and very exciting and joyful. 

I create a monthly interactive talk series, and I've done a few during this time. And lots of writing. The last one was called On Cultivating White Resilience, designed for my fellow white people to cultivate our resilience to become safer and less racist for BIPOC.

There's been a freeing sense, at the beginning of quarantine, and since during this uprising, to not keep going with anything that is not working that I've been ignoring. To become braver than ever to look deeply at all of it. That feels so good, so true, so important, full of love.

People who don't have kids describe quarantine as boring or full of so much "extra" time, etc. My experience hasn't changed that much in that I spend so much time with a one year old magic human. I love it, it's so built into and is becoming more of my art practice in the best ways, in the complex ways (ie how do I want to parent my child so that we can all become less racist?). Not sure in this context (of endless devastation for BIPOC specifically in corona time) I would even describe it as a challenge, but something I've been working to see in a more creative holistic ways is the lack of childcare from people outside of our family. We've changed our schedule because of it, and what I can do and when for my art practice / business has changed a lot too, continues to change. Mostly I see this as an invitation to new kinds of creativity and resource sharing.

A new feeling of freedom and commitment to antiracist practice in my everyday, finding ways that practice is showing up that I wasn't seeing and putting it in places where it wasn't. All of this comes from the inspiration I've received from so many people, so many Black and indigenous people specifically, leading the way. I've been involved in prison abolition work for about a decade and I have been completely shocked by how defunding the police and abolition have become mainstream vocabulary. I never expected that, I had given up on that ever happening in my lifetime, and this was a very important lesson for me in not succumbing to my white apathy. Through so much heartbreak and death, there is so much to be inspired by. That's been a success that I can't claim as mine, but that is the most important right now for me.

I had just got home from Mexico City where I attended the art fair, Zonamaco. It was a delightful trip filled with great art, cheap and very good food, fun, and drinks with friends and family. We had not been out of the country for 11 years, so it was really special. I was on an art high and ready to go full force into the studio. Shelter-in-place happened a couple weeks after we got home. It seemed like a great opportunity to create my own artist residency.

Luckily my studio and my weight lifting equipment are downstairs from my apartment, and I am an art supply hoarder as well. Choosing the long road of old world style process of making gesso, I built a canvas for my paintings using a recent score of a few free beautiful 48”x60” wood stretcher bars. When not art making I go through my art books and listened to podcasts about art.

I drew many self portraits, porch drawings, empty chair drawings, copies of famous artist self portraits, all men. I would attempt to queer myself into the pose and draw myself in the guise of these famous dead male artists' self portraits. I used their eyes and gestures to guide me.

Things were going smoothly and then the massacre was televised. I was working on an image for a self portrait that suddenly had to be about BLM. My eyes were opened and I could not close them. The terror was so deep. Mamma. I also painted a historical reference painting "May 25, 2020" based on Goya's "May 3, 1808" painting. Goya was one of the art books I was taking images from and queering myself into with self portraits. But after George Floyd, I could not help but paint this one. I am also working on another piece that is politically charged.

My challenges are white-privileged rooted. I am able work in my studio. I live in San Francisco. I miss being with my friends. I miss going to museums and seeing art live, in person. I miss galleries, dinner parties, going to movies and thrift stores but life is not challenging as it has been and continues to be for my black and brown brothers and sisters.

I have been able to cruise through a lot of museums for free virtually. I bought some great art on line. Going through all the old art books also gave me some ideas about what the color palette should be in the large paintings that I am about to begin.

I really dove into Goya's colors. I have been working on paper trying to develop this by making color charts. I only wish I could see Goya's paintings in person.

My situation is a little different than most artists as a week before shelter- in-place began I broke my hip and required a full right hip replacement. A day after I was discharged from the hospital the pandemic officially began. I didn't think too much about doing artwork as I focused for the first month on recovering from the surgery and pneumonia I acquired in the hospital.

After a month away from painting I was overjoyed to be able to navigate the steps down to my home studio and take a look around. I was thrilled to start doing artwork again (a little at a time) and I felt great that I could walk outside again without a walker. My appreciation and gratitude for life magnified and that has continued during the pandemic. I've developed an increased awareness of the fragility and preciousness of human life.

During this lockdown period I've spent more time in my studio doing artwork and discovered that doing art is what I need to maintain my emotional and psychological health. I've limited my intake of news and sought ways to discover joy which doesn't depend on external circumstances. Doing art is one of those ways (being out in nature, meditation and music are other ways for me). These are difficult times we live in. I've tried to use the time to discover new hope. For example, just waking up healthy and able to walk again is a good day for me! I notice more of what's around me and appreciate it-- the sun shining, the open space near my house, flowers blooming, the kindness of so many selfless people who are helping out during this time.

I feel best when my days are structured. As a result of spending more time in my studio on a regular basis I have created more artwork! Since many people are experiencing mood changes during the pandemic and lockdown, I decided to explore this in my artwork. I've developed a series of mixed media artwork entitled “Mood Swing”. To date, there are eight in the series and more to come. Instead of thinking out the work in advance as I have often done previously, I'm approaching it from a feeling place, looser, more spontaneous, dependent on my emotions at the time.

Besides working on this series, I've decided to spend the shelter-in-place time exploring new art ideas and trying different things. This has given me an increased sense of freedom. Part of my “trying new things” involves taking on-line art classes from well-established artists whose work I like.

Some of the challenges I have faced during this period, like so many others, were not being able to connect with family and friends in person. Fortunately we have come up with a creative way to meet in backyards and parks keeping social distance. I'm especially happy to be able to see my son and two year old grandson again in their backyard minus the hugs and kisses.

The pandemic is still far from over and it's hard to measure my successes at this point. Staying alive and well is a success! I've achieved that so far! Seeing my artwork change as time goes by and not knowing how it will develop next is a success. It means the work is fresh and has some element of surprise in it. I'm excited about doing art and look forward to going into the studio regularly. This shelter-in-place period has given me the opportunity to relax more. As I get used to my new lifestyle of staying home in the studio I find myself getting more playful with paints and collage.

Besides being depressed by all the unfortunate who have died and been thrown out of work, my art practice has been steady and actually increased since Covid lockdown. My practice process continues with readings in microbiology and observation of nature and then making ink drops paintings and 3D model renderings inspired from the paintings.

Yes, some new work has come out of experimenting in my journal with drawn "puppets" integrated into works using layers of Yupo, paper and mylar. I have also continued to learn 3D modeling and rendering with Zbrush and Keyshot.

The work hasn't changed drastically but has morphed with the constant background noise of death and propaganda. I feel Covid lockdown has given us a taste of the future disaster living as climate change closes in. My work is reflecting the change, a bursting of life, death and transformation.

I have felt guilty not going out and joining the George Floyd protests. But the staying home has kept me in close access with my art. It's a very strange time warp, months blurring by, not knowing what will happen to our country, our society, feeling quite helpless and totally ashamed of our government.

I have created 46 works on paper and several 3D renderings all in the vein of microbiology, the theme I have been working with for the past 3 years. I have had time to photograph the work and think about how to install the work once Covid lockdown ends.

I was lucky that I just had moved into a shared art space. Even though we had to keep socially distanced, I got the chance to work at the studio for about four hours a day. I worried and thought a lot about disasters and traumas and how to cope with all the unknowns and doubts. At the same time the studio turned into a sanctuary where I could listen better to my 'inner voice'.

I had used very small 'cards' (2,5"x3,5") for work with material from nature, pigments, wax and all kinds of mixed media before. But this format felt especially right at the moment, expressing a little prayer or a meditative mood.

I rather wanted to draw with nature instead from nature. Thinking of Brice Marden's work I started drawing with sticks and twigs on heavy cotton paper - using inks and rubbing in cold wax and pigments. I wanted to come closer to my own nature. For a longer time I am interested in pigments but now I wish even more to make own paint materials from the scratch.

Working against frustration and feelings of meaninglessness, reminding myself that we always have to work with our conditions and circumstances even if we want to change them. And I tried to focus on what feels essential.

Just to keep going, continuing to work, moving on, believing in what comes next, hoping that we get closer in realizing how connected everything is.

I have been working smaller, with diary like altered books and artists made books instead of large scale ceramic sculpture.

I have created a lot of new work, seven books and one large sculpture

I have created a lot of new work, seven books and one large sculpture.

The biggest challenge has been to pay for my studio rent without holding classes and selling work to support it. Also, many of my art exhibitions have been postponed or cancelled, and I miss the camaraderie with other artists, and the opportunity to connect with new collectors. Some of the new work I have done has the idea of protection or shelter from the storm.

My successes have been anchored in the opportunity to go deeper into subjects that interest me, and to open up new areas of interest and study.

This might just be my dream come true being "stuck at home" painting away. That said, I've really had to get creative to find new subject matter and I miss having shows and teaching. Since more time is being spent trying to do things in a Covid19 safe manner it leaves less time to work. And everyone is calling and texting and posting which I find interesting but cuts into my work time.

Yes I've done 35 plus paintings since March which is quite a few for me. I often only do 35 to 40 a year especially if they are larger in format. I joined an international group of artists doing 20 still life florals from life in 30 days. That was quite a challenge but really helped jump start me since I was a bit of a deer in the headlights when this all began.

I'm not sure it's changed but I do believe I am willing to fail more and I think that is leading me in some new directions. Taking more chances seems easier when you are "stuck in the studio." So far I like the work I've done and feel I've grown significantly.

My biggest challenge has been working larger. I have a limited amount of studio space and I'm not sure what I will do with a lot of large completed paintings. There do not seem to be many buyers right now, especially for more expensive works. And then getting the work framed is another hurdle. I frame some of the smaller pieces and have been able to get the frames.

My biggest project that I had procrastinated for a long time was to build a new website and have it be user friendly and have the ability to do sales directly. It's just recently done so I don't know how that will go but so far I've had good feedback. But so much to learn! My other biggest success was to break through on a new subject matter. I've driven by the boats in Monterey over and over and see them from the road above in all kinds of weather. Finally I decided to create a series around them. I've enjoyed this even more than the flowers.

Being at home has led me to focus on watercolors as they are easier to set up and tear down to in my home with up to 5 people living there. I've created some new work during this time while learning more basics of internet connections which I'll need in the fall when school starts. My work has been changed by both the virus and the social unrest as we head into the elections. I'm finding little successes that help me through the weeks.

Yes. As a community college professor, transitioning to teaching studio classes online has been a bit overwhelming and depressing. At the beginning of the pandemic, there was a moment when I thought stationing in place would equal more studio time, but that hasn't been the case. I don't have the same energy or motivation. I do go to my studio a few times a week across town but my reasons are more or less evenly split, leaving the house just to be somewhere else, versus actually working on anything in there. Sometimes I just go and sit in my space. At home, creative energies have been spent on our yard and our meals. Otherwise, I'm logging a lot of hours in our home office, a room in which I've never really spent much time in before now.

I have created some new work in this time, not much, but some. I take a lot of long walks and take a lot of pictures during these walks. I ended up making posters of some of my Instagram grids to raise money for Black Lives Matter and other social justice organizations. That isn't really my normal thing but the process of creating the images and producing something physical was gratifying in the same way my more typical processes are. There is also a painting I've been working since the beginning of the year that I've painted over more times that I can count. It has a really built up surface which is also not my normal thing. I'm in no hurry to finish it. I was planning to do a series of these and still would like to, but it isn't feeling like what I want to work on right now. That series is introspective and abstract. I think I'm a little to sick of myself right now to be that introspective. There is so much going on in the world. I'm not sure these very abstract pieces are speaking to me in the same way they did in February and March. I've been sketching during zoom meetings and see some potential for painting some of those things but it is a completely different direction.

I've also been working on some public art projects but so far that has mostly meant "paper work" or filling out various forms online, which doesn't satisfy any of my creative urges or inclinations but still needs to get done. I've done small public art projects in the past but this is my first really significant one. I'm so excited about this opportunity but have also been experiencing bouts of crippling doubt and imposter's syndrome. Once I get my hands on the actual materials I know I'll feel better about everything. Both for better and for worse, I know this about myself: I use my time more wisely when I have less of it. I'm a bit appalled at how much time I've squandered in the last few months. I do believe I'm dealing with some low key depression. It's no one thing, it's all these tiny things adding up with no relief in sight. The stress of changing my teaching methods, the fear of this virus, the isolation, the monotony, all the terrible news and feeling a little hopeless and helpless to do much about any of it. I miss running into people casually. I miss spending languid hours in coffee shops. I miss other people's art and art shows and art openings. I miss museum visits. I miss witnessing my students learn in person. I miss feeling like I know what I'm doing. I miss traveling. I miss having things to look forward to.

The stress of changing my teaching methods, the fear of this virus, the isolation, the monotony, all the terrible news and feeling a little hopeless and helpless to do much about any of it. I miss running into people casually. I miss spending languid hours in coffee shops. I miss other people's art and art shows and art openings. I miss museum visits. I miss witnessing my students learn in person. I miss feeling like I know what I'm doing. I miss traveling. I miss having things to look forward to.

I helped my parents move closer to me in all of this which is a great relief during this scary time.

I begrudgingly took a time consuming online class this summer learning how to teach better online and do actually feel more confident going back into this stuff in the Fall.

I have plenty of ideas to pursue.

You'd never know by looking at it but my studio is slowly getting cleaned up and organized.

At first I felt overwhelmed by the suffering, death and fear brought on by COVID all over the world. All I wanted to do was plant seeds in my garden and watch little shoots come up, grow vegetables from kitchen scraps, etc.

I wanted to reconnect with people who've been important to me throughout my life. It felt like a phase of life was ending, and a more conscious one was beginning- less busy and complex, more focused on what most mattered.

It took a while to get back to painting- I'd had shoulder surgery in the winter and hadn't painted for months. I was finally healed by April but it felt like an impossible hurdle to get started again . One day my husband took my hand and led me to my easel, saying- "there's cobwebs in your studio, I'm worried about you!" and I just began painting again. It was kind of a relief to finally get back to it. Painting also energized me to get involved in social action projects around BLM, and Reclaim Our Vote.

I have been painting pretty steadily. Partly it was the pressure of knowing the galleries I'm in would be asking for new work soon. The pressure was helpful as a motivator.

I'm a plein air landscape painter and my goal has always been to create a sense of luminosity in my work. Lately I've been really drawn to painting nocturnes, and also underwater spaces that are empty except for some light glittering above on the surface, both clearly coming from the feeling of these past months.

I'm used to a cycle of painting intensely for shows, then having big friendly receptions and lots of interactions with people around the show, then I rest for a while, then start painting intensely again for the next show.

Just painting without knowing when I'll have a show again feels strange. Also, I'm stimulated to paint by seeing different natural places, so spending most of my time inside has limited that. I‘ve started painting more from memory - my underwater painting was a memory of swimming in the Yuba River, watching the wavy light patterns on the rocks below.

All in all though, I'm actually enjoying the quiet unpressured time to just explore, learn and paint.

I'm enjoying painting different kinds of light than I used to, it's feels good to struggle and have the learning curve get steeper. Also I've been getting good responses and interest in my work lately, and recently found out I was accepted into the deYoung Open show which I'm excited about.

What I consider my art practice is two fold. I am a painter and a university professor. When Covid-19 hit and we all were asked to shelter in place my life, the lives of my students, the lives of my gallery owners, and life, as I knew it turned upside down. I quickly needed to educate myself so I could continue teaching remotely and my studio became not only a place to paint but also a place to teach. My spring classes went well all considered and I felt empowered to paint. It seemed to me a great marriage. In the craziness of the outside world my studio felt safe.

Yes, I have been very productive. I felt I had the time to dig in and get some projects done. Like the world just gave me extra time..

Not really. I just fell a bit less stressed like that extra time I gained by not having to drive around was being used wisely.

Sure, painting is a solitary endeavor and most of the time I love it. I have to say the Zoom classes seeing all of my students and social Zoom meetings have helped fill in some of that isolated feeling

Well, like I said, the extra time has enabled me to work faster, more productively and accomplish a lot during this time. I have shipped off one very large commission and several new paintings to my galleries. Worked on the details of a group exhibition that we started a year ago. We are finally going to be installing the work next week? Now it is planning Facebook Live so we can show our work and the narrative of the exhibition, a Zoom meet the artist, and virtual workshop

All museum staff have been on "OOO" status, our calendar shorthand for "Out of Office", since mid-March. During the past decade my art practice has evolved under the influence of Object Oriented Ontology, so I appreciate the irony of the shared abbreviation when I consider recent production in quarantine. Under reductive biological categorization, a "non-human" factor, COVID-19 virus, has shifted the social, political, and ecological context of art production and exhibition making. New conditions are inconvenient, but generative as well. I was very sick for a month, as the virus passed through, but my art production has adapted to consider exhibitions without viewers, and exhibitions for non-humans. OOO is an area that I was already at work on, but the progression is accelerated.

I created one piece that I installed in my home for six weeks. Nobody other than my immediate family saw it; Keys That Fit (2020). During this period I have also constructed a quarter-pipe skateboard ramp in the driveway, a pig pen, a large redwood garden bed, a smaller herb bed, a backyard archery range, custom designed and shaped four skateboard decks, and built out a sleeping loft to convert our van to a family camper. I collaborated on a short video with artists Stephen Kaltenbach and Justin Marsh.

Yes

Murray Bowles: Sixteen Frames, an exhibition that I co-curated at Axis Gallery in Sacramento, was closed one week after the opening reception. It was recently deinstalled.

The virus joined my body at the end of April, I felt like I might die, and I was in bed for nearly all of May.

Police murders of Black people.

Wildly destructive forest fires in California.

I am still alive and thinking.

Working at home during the pandemic has brought about major changes not only to the way I work but also to the amount and quality of feedback that I receive. I am primarily a painter and I have gone from working with other artists in a large studio to working in my tiny studio at home. I needed to buy an easel that was large enough to allow me to continue to paint on large canvases. Now most of the room in my studio is taken up by my giant easel and canvas. Luckily I have just enough room to paint. It was always easy to receive a quality critique of my work in progress from the professor that I was studying with and from my fellow artists. Now the interaction via Zoom is all that I have and while it is better than nothing, the quality of the experience is lacking the personal interaction that I am used to.

I have created new work during the past six months but the quantity of work that I have created is much lower than usual. I have found it difficult to concentrate on being creative during this time. The isolation and lack of social interaction has, at times, caused me to experience artist's block.

The type of series that I am working on has changed. I was working on a SF Bay series of paintings and had planned to have about 10 paintings in the series

As I mentioned above, there have been many challenges which have included learning how to work in a really small studio space, having all of my art supplies delivered instead of going to the art store, learning how to critique my own work more efficiently and accepting the fact that socializing with other artists in the studio was no longer possible. Also, I am constantly fighting to overcome artist’s block.

It was a big success for me to get my tiny at home studio up and running and workable. I have also had some limited successes dealing with artist’s block by working on art projects other that painting such as collage and life figure drawing. I joined an international life figure drawing group. It is run out of London and the models are from all over the world. It has been wonderful to work with a global community of artists. This online group did not exist before the pandemic. Changing my practice allows me to take a break from painting and when I come back to the canvas I can look at the painting refreshed and renewed.