Pandemic Nostalgia

6/1/24 Maple Leaf neighborhood

During the pre-vax pandemic era, Greg and I walked almost daily within and around a four-by-ten-block neighborhood area. Because we rarely saw anyone walking those blocks, and even car traffic was light to nonexistent, it seemed like the safest route. A bonus were the traffic circles, where I could stand to sketch a safe distance from both pedestrians and cars. (In retrospect, our over-abundance of pandemic caution was ridiculous; many other areas would have been perfectly safe to walk, and passing other pedestrians on the sidewalk was hardly a risk in any case, but it was a reflection of my anxiety back then.)

After we were vaccinated, we widened our walking route, and my walk/sketch fitness program has widened it further. For quite a while, I avoided walking that overly familiar four-by-ten-block area just because I had felt I had literally sketched “everything” there.

Now when I occasionally walk that route again, it feels nostalgic. I’ll pass the same blossoming dogwood trees that delighted us in 2020, and I remember where kids had decorated the sidewalk with rocks painted with affirmations and greetings. There’s the lawn where we had seen a gopher’s movements near its hole (but not the gopher itself, though we waited quite a while for it to pop out). Although these memories are not related to the pandemic itself, I will forever associate them with 2020. Dogwoods, painted rocks and gophers were our daily touchstones of reality in a world that seemed unreal. 

A Few Reflections on COVID

 

1/22/23 Dusk

Whenever I blogged about the daily sketches of my hand during the Before Vax Times (my term for that era, which was distinctly different from the current Not-Yet-After Times), I often used the opportunity to express my anxiety, grief, outrage and insights about the pandemic. Now that I’m fully recovered from COVID-19 and have had some time to process, I thought I’d use my blog to reflect again, this time from the other side.

First, I can’t help but begin with anything but gratitude for all the science and sacrifice that went into development of the vaccines that kept my symptoms light and tolerable. Although I had some anxiety about potential long-term consequences, I never feared that COVID would kill me. I had full faith that all those boosters (each one of which caused me inconvenient side effects at the time) would do their job, and they did.

1/23/23 Dusk

During the course of the pandemic, I have felt a moral and social obligation to help protect others, but let’s be honest: My first priority has always been protecting myself. Sure, I knew my mask would help keep my potential cooties away from others, but I wore it to keep their cooties off me. 

Once I learned of my definite exposure, however, everything changed. Because I felt confident that the vaccines would help me recover relatively easily, my primary concern shifted to others – specifically the spouse guy I was trying to protect (our caution paid off, and he dodged the bullet completely). I also suddenly felt a much greater responsibility for protecting random strangers who might not recover as easily as I hoped to. The meme from the first pandemic year, “Don’t kill someone inadvertently,” took on greater meaning. Suddenly I had become the person that I had feared and avoided for three years.

1/26/23 Sunrise

My perspective also shifted in another way. For three years, I have been vigilant about avoiding large crowds and generally cautious about being around others. Even post-vax when I started venturing out more, I never stopped being cautious, especially indoors, but the face of COVID was always an anonymous stranger (or more like crowds of anonymous strangers). That’s why I find it deeply ironic that when COVID finally caught me, I was enjoying lunch with a dear, trusted friend.

Other than short masked walks around the neighborhood, I stayed home for 11 days, including six full days in isolation. When I finally tested negative and started running errands again, I felt oddly invincible. Oh, I’m fully aware that it’s still possible to get it again (many people have been through it multiple times by now), but I figure that during the days and weeks following my infection, my body has as much natural protection against these damn cooties as it will ever have. At least for a short while, I am among the least likely people to get COVID. Walking into a grocery store the other day (yes, still masked, of course), I felt safe for the first time since March 2020. It was a bit exhilarating! At least for a moment. (Edited 2/18/23: This article says I might be good for as long as 10 months.)

1/30/23 Sunset

During my solitary confinement, the only window in my sequestering room has a view of a scrappy corner of our backyard that is mostly blocked by a tree. I could barely see the sky. One of many things I missed was the luxury of running to any window of my choice to make quick, small skyscapito sketches like these. 

If there’s one thing the pandemic teaches me over and over, it’s that I must never take anything for granted.

2/11/23 Sunset

2/12/23 Sunset

2/13/23 Sunset

Sketch Face

 

2/7/23 Zoom face

During the first pandemic year when we were all getting used to Zoom as a way of life, Michele Cooper made a self-portrait from her own image on the Zoom screen. To my comment about whether she had been having a meeting all by herself, she retorted, “Of course – it’s the only way to get a word in edgewise.”

On the last day of my quarantine, I remembered Michele’s self-portrait, and it somehow seemed appropriate to make one myself. I almost titled this post “COVID Face,” but I really didn’t feel as bad as I look in the sketch. In fact, I was nearly fully recovered by then and looking forward to rejoining the world.

By the way, I don’t recommend using the Zoom screen to draw self-portraits from. The light kept shifting every time I moved. In addition, I had never noticed before that there’s a tiny lag in time between my movements and the video image, so I could actually watch myself blink my eyes completely. In a mirror, that’s not possible. Try it on Zoom sometime; it’s weird and a bit distracting.

Despite 100% attendance at my Zoom meeting, the agenda didn't draw much interest.

Orzo Garbanzo Soup

 

2/5/23 Orzo garbanzo soup

A dear friend left some delicious soups at our door, and I had already scarfed down most of a big bowlful when it occurred to me that I wanted to sketch it. In general, I’m not too big on sketching my food (occasional pastries notwithstanding). But like our first post-vax indoor restaurant meal, the first in-store shopping trip, and the first vaccine dose, it seemed important to document soup that I ate while sequestered in the TV room.

I sure am happy that COVID hasn’t taken my sense of taste or my appetite!

Sequestered

2/5/23 ballpoint and Prismacolor in Stillman & Birn Zeta sketchbook

When I put together my “downstairs studio” a few weeks ago, I must have been prescient.

On Saturday I tested positive for COVID-19. I’m doing well – I’ve had common colds worse than this. Now, more than ever, I’m grateful for the vaccine and boosters that are responsible for keeping my symptoms at bay.

The hardest part has been isolating from the spouse guy to keep him safe (so far, so good), which began as soon as I had learned of my definite exposure. We decided that the best way to do that was for me to sequester in the TV room, which is adjacent to the downstairs bathroom. It minimizes me circulating throughout the house, especially upstairs where our bedroom is – right next to my studio. Other than a couple of quick run-throughs to grab a few things, I’ve stayed out of my studio, making do with what I have downstairs. With art supplies, devices, TV and books, I’m fully entertained. (Even sleeping on our old couch hasn’t been as bad as I expected.) Like my minimal sketch kit challenges, being sequestered is an interesting experiment in using a limited range of supplies.

I don’t usually announce personal health issues and such on social media, but in this case, I thought it would be worthwhile as a cautionary tale. I’ve been vigilant and wary for three years, yet COVID still caught up with me. Stay safe, everyone – the cooties are still out there.

Technical notes: Please excuse the grayish image. I don’t have access to my scanner, so the sketch was taken with my phone. In this room, I’ve got light coming from three directions; hence, the inconsistent shadows. I’m pleased with the way the orange “COVID 19” label came out. I knew that a white Gelly Roll wouldn’t write well over colored pencil. Before coloring, I used heavy pressure to write with it so that it served as a stylus. Then when I applied orange over the writing, the colored pencil resisted the debossed letters. 

No Hoopla, Still Grateful

 

4/8/22 Shoreline Costco

Unlike the wildly competitive and frustrating experience of our first COVID jabs last year, getting our boosters has been a piece of cake – easier each time. For our most recent boosters, we went to our usual Costco, shopped until it was our appointment time, then received our vaccinations at the pharmacy. Only one other person was there getting his shot. What a difference a year makes! There was no sticker or triumphant hoopla at Costco, but I certainly don’t take the jabs for granted.

Through the West Window

 

1/16/22 West view sketched while Zooming with USk Seattle

USk Seattle is back on Zoom, at least until it warms up enough so that we can meet safely outdoors again. Instead of doing only a “hold up” of previously made sketches, we tried something different: Sketch together while chatting online. Apparently USk Poland, whose members are geographically spread throughout the country, has been sketching together online since before the pandemic. Thanks to Carol for suggesting the idea, we gave it a try, and it was a lot of fun! We had more time to chat than we usually do at real outings. With more than 20 in attendance, we’d never be able to sit at the same café table for wintertime sketching, even during “normal” times. Meeting on Zoom would not be my choice if it were safe to meet in person, but it does have its benefits.

Sunday’s theme was to sketch a room, through a window or whatever we could see from wherever we were. The view through my west-facing window, which I have sketched several times as color temperature or value studies, made a convenient primary triad study this time. The fog gave everything a challenging mid-value tone, but I tried to liven things up with exaggerated hues.

Technical note: Since I started using a Hahnemühle sketchbook last month, I haven’t had many opportunities to use a spritzer to activate watercolor pencil where I’ve drawn trees or other foliage. My favorite spritzing bottle was downstairs in my bag, so during the Zoom, I made do with another one I keep on my desk. This one puts out a heavier spray, so I over-spritzed a bit, but even so, I’m pleased by how well the paper takes the water.

Friends on Zoom

 

1/12/22 Kate, Roy and Tina on Zoom

Last summer I was so optimistic that the pandemic was finally beginning to be under control that I killed my Zoom account. Although I knew I would continue to do some things virtually, I hoped never to initiate social gatherings that way again. Sadly and very frustratingly, I was overly optimistic.

To cheer myself up this winter when I had been looking forward to visiting museums and meeting friends in cafés, I reinstated my Zoom account. At least until the weather warms up and we can meet outdoors again, I’m back to chatting and sketching with friends on Zoom.

Kate, Roy and I had a good catch-up while I made blind contours. We don’t look this wacky in real life, but the world is so askew that maybe we do.

Changes at Zoka Coffee

 

12/1/21 Zoka Coffee, Green Lake neighborhood

I had been thinking for a long time about going back to Zoka Coffee – one of my favorite winter sketching haunts for many years in the Before Time. Now that I’m boostered, and since I knew Zoka requires proof of vaccination, I felt more confident about spending time there.

As I always used to, I arrived before 7 a.m. to get the best choice of tables. People using the free wi-fi to work on their laptops and even conduct meetings usually start filling the tables by then, but to my surprise, only a few other patrons were there.

“So – what do you have planned for the day?”

“Getting my booster. Exciting, huh? How was your Thanksgiving?”

The counter chit-chat between the barista and an apparently regular patron might have seemed unusual during ordinary times, but not now. Some tables had been removed and others rearranged to allow for more space between them. Well-worn stickers on the floor helped patrons to space themselves in line (by now, don’t we all intuitively know how far away six feet is?). Everything is served in disposable cups and bags, even if you are staying.

I chose my favorite corner table. The sun would not come up for at least another half-hour, and it seemed much darker inside than I remembered. Without natural light from the large windows behind me, I could barely see the two women deep in conversation about their Thanksgivings and home renovation plans. Instead of struggling to draw facial features and other details, I decided to use the colored pencil techniques I had learned from Sarah Bixler’s workshops and focus only on large shapes and color temperature changes. It was not at all my usual style for sketching people in public, so it felt fresh, foreign and not entirely comfortable, just like being back at Zoka.

Zoka no longer served my favorite coffee cake. When I asked about it, the barista said she didn’t think they had ever had coffee cake. She obviously had not worked there in the Before Time. As soon as I bit into the croissant, I remembered that I don’t like them there (they leave a film on my palate). By the time I finished it, the sun had come up, and more light filled the space with familiar shapes and shadows. I used my “normal” style to draw the young woman in the beanie working at her laptop. A nice touch: Every large table had a bottle of hand sanitizer, like a café condiment.

These COVID changes are probably things most people are used to already, but I didn’t get out much pre-vax, and I’ve only recently started slowly tiptoeing back to indoor venues.

Has Zoka changed, or is it mostly me who has changed?

Boostered

 

11/23/21 A volunteer firefighter fills syringes at 
the Shoreline Community College vaccination clinic. 

Something I missed immensely during the pandemic’s long pre-vaccine phase was sketching people. In general, I avoided them, and if I saw any, they were too far away to sketch. Now that I’m gradually doing more around people, I’m also sketching them more. As usual, the sketches don’t amount to much since people in public places usually don’t stick around long. But I have always enjoyed that tension – how much can I capture in however long I have?

The downside is that I can’t practice sketching noses and mouths. Now that I’m boostered, though, I’ll feel safer spending time in coffee shops again, where more complete faces will be revealed. I’m looking forward to that this winter.

11/15/21 Costco

Speaking of being boostered, I used a walk-in clinic at Shoreline Community College that was staffed by volunteer firefighters (at left). Of the three COVID vaccine doses I’ve received, this was by far the fastest and easiest. We all know the drill now, and it’s no longer the competitive race to the syringe that it was six months ago.

On this Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for many things, not the least of which is all the medical technology and information that continue to keep me as safe as possible. It feels good to take baby steps toward normalcy.

9/21/21 waiting room

10/19/21 light rail rider

10/19/21 more light rail riders

11/15/21 Costco

11/16/21 Starbucks

Much to Celebrate

11/16/21 Bryant neighborhood

I had a birthday a few days ago, and with the deluge we’ve been having lately, I assumed it would rain that day, too (most of my childhood birthday party memories include rain, so I’m used to it). To my surprise, it was mostly dry, and the clouds kept parting sporadically to let the sun through.

I had also assumed that our “atmospheric river” surely would have put an end to leaf-peeping season, but call me optimistic. Driving around the Bryant neighborhood, I saw that most trees were bare, but a few were reluctant to give ‘em up. A little bald on top, this maple still had some shining to do. It just goes to show that I can’t make assumptions. And the sunshine was an unexpected birthday treat.

Speaking of birthday treats, Greg took me to our favorite sushi restaurant that evening to celebrate. The last time we had dined inside a restaurant was February 2020 for his birthday – only a couple of weeks before the global pandemic became more than just a disturbing news article. We went to Kisaku that time, too. We chose Kisaku again because, like more and more Seattle restaurants, proof of vaccination is required to dine there. Other than the masks, not much had changed in 21 months; they still had my favorite hamachi appetizer, and the whole meal was delicious. It was very special to be back.

I rarely sketch my food, especially during special occasion dining. It was important, however, to document this meal as a celebration of more than just my birthday.

Greg was happily eating his own appetizer so he didn't have to wait
while I sketched. ;-)

Much to celebrate!

Gage Life Drawing is Back!

 

9/25/21 artist at work at Gage Academy

Will (20-min. pose)

At long last, life drawing is back at Gage Academy! I mean real life drawing, not on Zoom, which I appreciated throughout the pandemic but just wasn’t the same. Last Saturday, more than a dozen artists turned out for the much-anticipated return. A group that large would not have fit comfortably (or safely) in any of Gage’s studios, but out on the lawn in front of St. Mark’s Cathedral next door to Gage, we could spread out as much as we wanted in the brilliant, 70-degree sunshine.

As has been my habit at the informal life-drawing sessions at Gas Works Park, I moved around after each 20-minute sitting to get a different view of model Will’s single pose. Eventually I backed up behind the group and sketched a couple of the artists at work. Although long poses are not my favorite, it just felt good to know that life drawing at Gage was an option again.

Will (20-min. pose)

Of course, I don’t know how many more outdoor sessions the school will be able to offer, and I’m not sure whether I’ll be comfortable participating indoors, so my joy may be short-lived. But I’m grateful to Gage for whatever drawing opportunities there might be.

The last time I attended in-person life drawing at Gage was in November 2019. Reading my blog post from that time and remembering the session, it’s strange to think that I would not be able to participate again for nearly two years. Back then I thought this luxury would always be an option. Now I know better, and I do not take it for granted.

Artist painting Will

More than a dozen artists enjoyed sunny drawing on the lawn outside Gage and St. Mark's.

I would have attended even without the free donut!

St. Mark's Cathedral next door to Gage

Trying to Feel Normal

 

8/10/21 Fellow shopper at north Seattle Costco

Last week we shopped inside a Costco store for the first time in 17 months. We have been getting Instacart and shipped deliveries from Costco all along, but we had not gone inside a store since early March 2020 (I remember that shopping trip vividly, filled with anxiety). Friends have encouraged me to take advantage of the early “senior hours,” but I had decided that if I stayed out of stores, I was making it easier and safer for others who may not have the luxury of isolation. The Costco where we shop was comfortably uncrowded at the general opening time, and I was relieved to see that most shoppers and all staff were masked.

8/11/21 Awful Knofel performing at Maple Leaf Ice Cream Social

The next day we attended the Maple Leaf Ice Cream Social, an annual neighborhood event that we have always enjoyed when we’ve been in town for it (unfortunately, we missed some years because we so often travel during the summer, and of course, it was cancelled last year). It was the most crowded event we’ve attended in more than two years. Since Maple Leaf is within one of the most highly vaccinated zip codes in the state, I felt relatively safe, especially outdoors. As I scarfed down my Dove ice cream bar before it melted, I looked around at my mostly mask-free neighbors, no one socially distanced, and I marveled at the difference the vaccine has made in all our lives. I was not without some residual anxiety, however, given that infections from the Delta variant are skyrocketing in King County and worldwide. I tried not to think about that, though, as we enjoyed the music of the band Awful Knofel.

These two sketches may not look like much, but they are important documentation of my ongoing transition through the various phases of the pandemic. I call this phase, “trying to feel normal.”

Top Pot Queue

 

6/4/21 Top Pot Doughnuts, Wedgwood neighborhood

I try to observe National Doughnut Day annually. Last year, I almost didn’t; the pandemic didn’t keep me away, but shaken and outraged by George Floyd’s murder, I wasn’t feeling festive. Still, there’s nothing like sugary, deep-fried dough to (temporarily) improve one’s mood, so I went ahead with it, and I was happy that I did.

Yesterday I was feeling much more upbeat as I set out for my neighborhood Top Pot. At 8 a.m., a decent line had formed outside the door. In the past, I have enjoyed sketching the Wedgwood store’s giant donut sculpture and twin palm trees from across the street, but this time I wanted to get close enough to sketch the queue. Though the sketch itself isn’t very exciting, it tells a larger story: masked patrons standing in line six feet apart, and my vaccinated self feeling safe enough to sketch them. (A palm tree makes a cameo appearance as a shadow on the building.)

Afterwards, I got into the line myself for a classic chocolate raised ring, which I sketched at home before scarfing it down. I noticed that the store is hiring; the donut biz must be thriving. We have many reasons to feel upbeat.

By the way, like many occasions and holidays, the origin of National Doughnut Day has gotten lost over the years. It was first observed in 1938 to honor Salvation Army volunteers who gave out donuts during World War I.

Farmers Market Busker

 

5/29/21 U-District Farmers Market busker

About a year ago, our desire for fresh local produce won over anxiety and trepidation, and we went to the University District Farmers Market one Saturday morning. When we arrived at the opening time, however, the six-feet-apart line of shoppers already stretched around the block. Discouraged and disheartened, we turned around and went back home. We hadn’t been to any farmers market since.

Saturday of Memorial Day weekend dawned sunny and beautiful. Other than shoppers and vendors being masked, the U-District Farmers Market looked very much like the Before Times. A staff member with a counter was managing the number of people on the closed-off street, but there was no line. Saxophone music greeted us.

After handing Greg my purchases to carry, I stepped away from the market thoroughfare to sketch the saxophone busker. Of all the post-vax things I’ve done so far, this quick and simple sketch made me feel the most emotional. Maybe someday things will be as normal as they felt.

Santo Coffee Co.

 

5/28/21 Santo Coffee patrons

One of many things I had missed dearly during the past 14 months was sketching in coffee shops. After being vaccinated, I had been wanting to do it, but I was still a little uncertain about spending time indoors in public places. I needed a little push. Then I got an invitation from Carol and Natalie, and it was the push I needed.

When Rip Van Winkle woke up at Santo Coffee, she blinked her eyes and realized she had forgotten how to sketch real-life people! I had a clear view of the man just outside the window and the bright red Jump bike next to him, but I didn’t get far before another guy sat down inside and blocked that view. Oh, that’s right… that’s what urban sketching is about! The café felt busy and noisy, and I felt out of place, but it helped to have good friends (figuratively) holding my hand. I had certainly missed them, too.

Once again, the result is not my best, but I will always remember it as my first post-vax sketch at a coffee shop and part of my ongoing re-entry to the public world.

Green Lake Drive

 

5/26/21 W. Green Lake Drive N.

Kathleen and I have been walking around Green Lake together every Wednesday for well over a decade – probably closer to two decades by now. The only times we haven’t were when one of us was out of town – plus the past 14 months. Both of us now fully vaccinated, we have finally resumed our weekly walks. I had dearly missed her company and our conversations.

While Rip Van Winkle was asleep, Green Lake Drive went through a lengthy revision and pavement improvement project, so I also (thankfully) missed most of the traffic mess. Last Wednesday the whole street was being restriped, so I had to park several blocks from our usual meeting place. Heading back to my car after our walk, I liked the way a row of funny flat-topped trees followed the curve of the street. I stopped in my tracks to sketch the scene.

Unlike Trader Joe’s or Artist & Craftsman, this “nothing” view of Green Lake Drive is not a specific venue I had missed. It represents something I had missed even more: The sheer and simple joy of walking down a sidewalk and being able to stop anywhere for a sketch without a second thought. I will never again take that luxury for granted.

Artist & Craftsman

 

5/24/21 U-District Artist & Craftsman

In addition to food shopping at TJ’s, another thing I missed greatly during my 14-month, self-enforced isolation was shopping for art supplies from actual shelves. Of course, I certainly purchased plenty of art supplies online during that time (what else was there to do?), but we all know that’s just not the same as strolling down aisles to see what’s new.

When I looked at the supply list for the Gage class I just started, I was dismayed to see that I already owned everything on it – What??! Nothing new to buy?? – except for one item. Gleefully, I grabbed a mask, jumped into my car, and dashed over to Artist & Craftsman in the U-District. Although it doesn’t have the widest selection in town, it has the funkiest, “artsy” ambiance. A bit dark with uneven floors and somewhat confusing aisles, it has no shiny displays or matching aprons on the employees. Working artists shop there with paint still on their hands, and the staff look that way, too.

On a rainy afternoon, I could barely see the nondescript storefront (which, oddly, doesn’t indicate the store name on its sign – only “Art Supplies”) from the parking lot across the street. But like my trip to TJ’s, I want to document my life on the other side of vaccination.

U-District Trader Joe’s

5/21/21 Trader Joe's, University District

On March 3, 2020, we had already begun hearing about the hoarding that was going on in stores – shelves emptied of staples like bread, milk, rice and, inexplicably, toilet paper. Stocking up but resisting the urge to hoard, we shopped at Trader Joe’s as we usually do, unaware then that it would be our last trip there for more than 14 months.

Last Thursday we finally returned – the first in-store shopping trip of our post-vax life. As Rip Van Winkle continued to rub the sleep from bleary eyes, I had to concede that not much had changed (we missed the free coffee and food samples, of course). Most of our favorite TJ’s products were still there, and we discovered a few new (at least to us) things to try. We carefully followed the one-way arrows on the floor that were largely ignored by other shoppers. They had probably long ago figured out how to efficiently navigate the aisles during a pandemic.

Checking out, we had to be reminded by the clerk to wait within the circled area to stay safely out of the way of others. Embarrassed, we told him that it was our first shopping trip in 14 months, so we hadn’t learned the rules yet. He welcomed us back “out,” and we thanked him for his service all year while we had stayed safely at home.

With frozen foods in our bags, I couldn’t take the time to sketch then, but I made a separate trip the next day to make this sketch. The University District Trader Joe’s dark, dreary storefront is not the kind I would typically want to sketch. But it was important to me to commemorate this trip.

Rusty at Gas Works Park

 

5/20/21 Gas Works Park

If you’ve been to Gas Works Park, you know that the primary color there is rust. A few days ago, the gas works weren’t the only things that were rusty; I hadn’t been to my favorite Seattle park in so long that I felt thoroughly rusty myself. As much as I’ve sketched in my own neighborhood and at home during the whole pandemic, and as many times as I’ve sketched at Gas Works Park, its scope and scale and having so many choices made me feel like a beginning sketcher.

Ever since I became fully vaccinated a couple of weeks ago, I’ve felt like Rip Van Winkle awakening after more than 14 weeks of isolation. Greg and I walked around Lake Union’s shore, climbed Kite Hill, slowly rotated to take in the 360-degree panorama, and I felt like a tourist instead of a native. Families and small groups picnicking, couples strolling, kit fliers taking advantage of the breeze – nothing had changed in more than a year, and yet everything had changed. Or maybe it was me who had changed. I appreciate everything more.

A bit stunned and bewildered, I eked out a quick sketch of some gas works and another of a few geese. I knew it didn’t matter what I sketched; it was just a teaser. I would be back for much more.