Toni’s Epic Journey Continues

 

3/25/21 Toni (from video still)

After more heartbreaking setbacks, Toni reached the point last week at which her doctors believed her lungs were strong enough to be taken off a ventilator permanently. Her sister Fran has been with her daily since January, sometimes spending 12-hour days at her side. Fran has been Toni’s coach during the painful, arduous process of being weaned from the mechanical device that has kept her alive since November when COVID-19 began ravaging her body.

With this huge milestone reached, Toni could finally leave the hospital and move to a rehab facility, where the long journey will begin to heal the rest of her body, including regaining basic skills like standing and walking. Five months of hospitalization will do that.

A few days ago, Fran posted a short video on Facebook of Toni being lifted into the ambulance that would take her to her next phase of recovery. Clutching several stuffed toys, a shiny, star-shaped balloon bobbing behind her, Toni gave her sister a thumb’s up. I knew she was smiling behind her mask. Seeing the video brought me to tears, but this time of joy.

We will not hear many COVID stories as epic as Toni’s; most in her condition would not have survived. Toni has beaten the odds.

Tonal Garlic

3/24/21 graphite on Yupo; colored pencil on Stonehenge Aqua Black and Fawn

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my pandemic hand series, it’s how to have fun with toned paper. My initial intentions with using brightly colored papers were simply to keep myself entertained and to give each sketch a visual spark. It didn’t take long, though, to remember how handy (ha) colored paper can be for studying values. Using any color as the mid-tone, applying white and a dark color for two other values is expeditious. I like the way the colored pages trick me into thinking I’ve found a convenient shortcut when, in fact, I am learning more about values.

I’m still playing with Legion Stonehenge papers for reviews I’m writing, and the sample set includes a lovely Fawn color (slightly warmer and lighter than Stillman & Birn’s beige) that I am enjoying. This subtle tone also offers the additional challenge of transparent colored pencils interacting with a warm undertone.

As for black, you already know how much I love working with that brain-busting challenge. I’m not sure I like the strong texture of this Stonehenge cold press, at least with colored pencil, but I bet the paper’s heavy weight would be nice with gouache.

(Visit the Well-Appointed Desk for my full reviews of these paper samples.)

Essential Workers

 

3/21/21 Life Drawing+ organizer and host Agata wears a big straw hat to talk about the
challenges of offering online life drawing. (5 minutes)

For many years, Life Drawing+ offered open sessions and classes with live models in a traditional Manchester, England, life drawing studio. When the pandemic closed the studio, organizer Agata wasted no time in moving the models to what may have been the first life-drawing program on Zoom: It began only a week after the UK’s lockdown a year ago. While life drawing online has become commonplace during the past year, the Life Drawing+ program is still the most innovative and creative that I have participated in. Some of my favorite sessions have included dramatic lighting, a lesbian couple, and a drag queen with elaborate accessories.

To commemorate the weekly program’s first anniversary, Agata presented a variety of first responders and other essential workers from the UK. Instead of modeling in the traditional sense, they were interviewed by Agata about how the pandemic has profoundly affected their lives and livelihoods. They dressed in uniforms or held props of their trades as they told stories of courage and resilience.  

First up was Agata herself (above), who talked about the challenge of helping models continue to earn a living by putting them on Zoom instead of up on a studio platform. How much easier it was, Agata said, to simply invite artists to come to the studio instead of having to remotely teach models how to use video in the best ways possible.

Amanda is a volunteer at a vaccination site. Wearing a high-visibility neon green vest, she talked about how she reassures vaccine recipients and makes sure they wait at the facility the required 15 minutes after vaccination in case of an allergic reaction.  

Amanda, vaccination site volunteer (5 minutes)

Alan, who normally delivers produce to restaurants and stores, suddenly found himself many times busier once the pandemic hit. Suddenly food became difficult to buy in stores, so individuals began calling him to deliver produce directly. He said he appreciates the contact with customers, many of whom are shut-ins who have told him, “You are literally keeping me alive.”

Alan, food distribution (10 minutes)

Organic farmer Lindsay also found herself much busier when the pandemic hit. A seller at a farmers’ market, she had initially panicked when the market was closed, but then she started receiving “a hundred emails a day” from customers asking if she could deliver produce directly. When they couldn’t buy produce easily from stores or markets as they had in the past, they became more aware of where their food comes from.

Lindsay, organic farmer (15 minutes)

Helen, a teacher, had to face the enormous challenges of learning how to teach teenagers online. She talked about how difficult it is for young people to have only their families for company and not to have social interactions with peers.

Helen, middle-school teacher (15 minutes)

Unlike food producers and distributors who suddenly found themselves in greater demand, Steve, an emergency room nurse, had the opposite experience. He said that some people who needed urgent medical care became hesitant to seek help because they were afraid of catching COVID at the hospital. Part of his work has been to educate patients about how they still need to take care of themselves and seek medical attention if they need it.

Steve, emergency nurse (5 minutes)

An art director, Alan found many of his income sources drying up. To supplement his dwindling income, he became a parcel courier (my impression was that the retail service he worked for was similar to Amazon). As retail customers began buying more and more products online, the need for couriers expanded rapidly. Paid by the parcel, not the hour, he had to learn very quickly how to make deliveries at a fast pace. He eventually came to enjoy some aspects of the job, such as the relative flexibility and the small interactions he has with customers.

Alan, courier (15 minutes)

A surprising “model” in the session was Elizabeth, who designs and builds bicycles. She has built more than 50 bikes. Her small business has boomed during the pandemic. In addition to the many commuters who started bicycling to avoid public transportation, others sought the “liberation” biking provided – fresh air, an opportunity for fitness, feeling free when so much of life felt oppressive.

Elizabeth, bike maker (15 minutes)

The last “model” of the session was Elaine, a microbiologist working in the field of infection prevention and control and specializing in children. She chose to hold a COVID testing swab as her prop because it best represented what she has been studying the past year – and she has tested herself numerous times. Part of her work has been to figure out how to conduct COVID testing in countries that may not have reliable access to electricity, computers or other technology. Elaine also talked about the false impression many have that children do not catch COVID easily or that they don’t have symptoms. In fact, although not many children die of COVID, many do suffer serious, long-term consequences.  

Elaine, microbiologist (15 minutes)

This session was probably the most meaningful sketching I have done during the pandemic. I was moved by their stories and felt honored to sketch them in recognition of the work they do so that people like me can stay safely at home. And many thanks to Agata for making it possible for artists around the world to draw them and hear their stories.

Proceeds from this session, which are normally paid to the model, are being donated to two international charities nominated and selected by the essential workers and the artists who participated.

Second Pandemic Sketchbook Filled

 

Filled with eight months of sketches.

Last July I filled my first sketchbook from the pandemic and then started a fresh one. (By “sketchbook,” I mean the largest one that I use exclusively for urban sketching; I have several others that I use simultaneously, like my small Field Notes for quick captures.) Nearly eight months later, the second one is finally full. That’s a record-breaker for me in terms of longevity: In the Before Times, I typically filled a 52-page Stillman & Birn softcover sketchbook with urban sketches in two to three months, regardless of season. Although I still sketched plenty at home during that period, it’s clear that the pandemic was, shall we say, an inconvenience to my lifestyle.

Nonetheless, when I thumb through those eight months, I vividly recall many beautiful summer days sketching every nook and cranny of my corner of Maple Leaf. The fall, too, was enjoyable. Often captured from my car, many brilliant maples gave me an opportunity to use more color than at any other time.

Not all the pages are pretty, though. One shows a homeless encampment in the Ravenna neighborhood that was new to me (sadly, many new ones have appeared in the past year). Another disturbing sketch shows a bright red sun rising through a smoky wildfire haze.

Sensory memories from those moments rush back with every page I turn. The book took much longer to fill, but every sketch is all the more precious – an ongoing record of my pandemic year.

According to what has become my personal tradition, I stuck a masked Weather Bunny sticker on the cover as a reminder. Then I peeled the wrapper off the next sketchbook. Unlike last July, however, I start this one with hope and anticipation.

A blank sketchbook of hope.

Haiku from the ‘Hood

 

3/16/21

In addition to being a sumi painter, my mother was a haiku poet. As a traditional homemaker, she spent most of her time at home. Sometimes when her well of haiku ideas ran dry, she complained that it was because she hadn’t gone out that week. Then she would go shopping or run another mundane errand, and when she returned, inevitably she would say that she had gotten an idea for a haiku (which she would then quickly scribble into her notebook).

She didn’t need much for inspiration – her brief poems were often about ordinary matters made extraordinary by her observations – but getting out of the house was enough to make her see the mundane anew.

I know how my mom felt. My regular walks around the neighborhood are hardly “inspiring,” yet walking out the door is usually all I need to keep scribbling visual haiku in my sketchbook.

3/11/21

3/19/21

Sixth and Lenora

3/20/21 Sixth and Lenora, downtown Seattle

As I did three weeks ago for his first shot, I dropped Greg off for his second dose at the Virginia Mason/Amazon SuperVax site, then parked a short distance away to wait. This time I found a spot facing Sixth and Lenora, where I caught a glimpse of the Amazon Spheres. In the foreground, protected by a row of orange stanchions and a fake picket fence, is a large tent used for outdoor seating by nearby restaurants. The tent occupies a traffic lane that has been closed to accommodate it. As before, it’s not a composition I would have chosen if I’d felt comfortable standing on the sidewalk, but it was still a treat to be downtown.

Sketching from my car is not a tactic new to the pandemic; I use my mobile studio every winter. Sometimes it’s frustrating because I know much better compositions would be available, if only I could get out and move a few feet. Other times I enjoy the challenge of looking for an interesting view within my parking limitations.

By the time I finished the sketch, he was done. It seems deceptively simple for a life-saving solution to take so little time to receive.

Finite

Lengthy art projects are not new to me. During my first year of sketching, I decided to make one hundred self-portraits, and that took me a couple of months. (Can you believe it? My attempt a couple weeks ago wasn’t the first!) As if that torture wasn’t enough, shortly after that, I sketched my hand a hundred times. My longest project was when beadwork was my primary art medium. On the day after my 49^th birthday, I began weaving one small piece of beadwork every day for a year, culminating on my 50^th birthday. Afterwards, I mounted the 365 pieces on a single panel for display. (You can see the completed work on this page.)

All those projects had been planned, and I had made a commitment in advance to complete them. My current series of hand drawings, however, is different.

On March 16, 2020, a few days after the World Health Organization had declared a state of global pandemic, I was filled with so much fear and anxiety that I grabbed the nearest pen and paper and drew my hand simply to quiet my agitated mind. Afterwards, I felt better, so the next day, I did it again. I never intended for these sketches to become a series. (If I’d known then that I’d still be at it more than a year later, I never would have begun!) I was a month into the hands before I had committed to the series to the extent that I bought a stamp set to ritualistically count the days.

I didn’t even know what days I was counting. Unlike some artists who had begun series of sketches to endure their locally enforced lockdowns, my effort was nebulous – a self-enforced “lockdown.” It had no end date that I knew of. A large part of my ongoing anxiety was exactly that – not knowing when it would end. Something terrible being indefinite makes it much harder to bear.

By the fourth month of the pandemic, I finally realized what this series was about: It was a metaphor for personal endurance of living through a constant state of being unsafe. It became clear, then, what I was counting: The number of days until I felt safe again.

Last Wednesday Governor Inslee announced that on March 31, 2 million more Washington State residents will be eligible to receive the vaccine, and that tier will include me. When I schedule my appointment, the wait for safety will be finite. And finite feels infinitely better than indefinite. The hand series will end. And that end will be a grateful relief in many ways.