The Staff of Life

The Staff of Life

12x16 oil on panel

A few weeks into quarantine when the days had begun to feel indistinguishable people began to bake. Social media began to look like the window of a giant bakery - full of muffins, scones, banana bread and lots of sourdough. 

The baking section of markets emptied just after the paper goods aisle emptied of toilet tissue. Those packets of yeast that sat undisturbed on the top shelf since your grandmother’s time became a hot commodity. Flour mills couldn’t keep up with the demand. 

Yes, everyone was trapped at home and had nothing but time on their hands, and yes, every trip out the door was viewed as a health risk, but really, what was going on?

Social scientists say that baking offers comfort and is nurturing of others. The sudden passion for kneading grew out of a survival instinct not only to feed but to control. We were realizing that our entire world could be tipped over by a tiny virus and that we weren’t the masters of all we see after all. But if we kept our dough warm and timed the rise, punched it down and let it rise again we could create an ancient food considered essential.

Home cooking had become a bit of a rarity in the last decade as markets sold more prepared food and dinner could easily be delivered. We spent lots of time and money enjoying more and more elaborate food while eating out. When all restaurants closed what we could produce in our kitchens was all there was. The impulse to do it well, and go deeper than ever before is so sweet. I mean if you can create the staff of life in your own kitchen, isn’t that the perfect way to push back a pandemic?

You’ve just got to love the resilient nature of the human spirit! 

Assault Rifles in the Capitol

                                                    Assault Rifles in the Capitol

In late April governor Gretchen Whitmer requested that Michigan’s lawmakers consider extending the stay at home orders. A crowd of protesters soon gathered at the state capitol brandishing swastikas, confederate flags, nooses and some came bearing arms. Automatic rifles to be exact.

It is legal to openly carry firearms in Michigan and they were allowed to enter the capitol building. When they were bared from entering the chamber where the debate was taking place, they transformed the elegant rotunda of the Senate visitors gallery into a snipers nest.

Furious about the governor’s proactive attempt to shelter the citizens of her state from the most fierce virus to move through humanity in a century, this group saw fit to threaten elected officials with assault rifles and hand guns. 

This painting was very hard to complete because the image upsets me so deeply.

Portrait of a Virus

 

Portrait of a Virus

8x10, oil on panel

coronavirus series

How often has everyone known what a specific virus looks like? 

Closed in our homes and staying abreast of the rapidly changing story of the pandemic, we became well acquainted with the model of the virus that was upending our lives. 

Keep Out

 

Keep Out

16x12 oil on panel

Parks were reopened with the realization that fresh air and exercise are fundamental to good physical and mental health, but playgrounds or “tot lots” have remained closed. Who needs sunshine, fresh air and movement more than our kids? Towns, cities and states have rightly agreed that kids under 6 don’t keep masks on and have no concept of social distancing.  Children touch their face often and surface transmission is a concern on playgrounds where it is difficult to clean and disinfect all surfaces. 

Playgrounds are often crowded with not only children, but their parents, grandparents and caretakers too. With schools and daycare facilities closed playgrounds could become more crowded than ever. But what do parents do parents do to fill all the hours, keep kids stimulated and burn off some of that youthful energy that simply needs to be released? 

The vision of closed play areas reminds me of all the limitations we currently face that lead to quiet losses. Through enjoying ourselves in the company of one another we feel whole, we grow, we feel joy. Without that experience what happens, especially to young children? Not only are they being kept from the simple pleasure of one another, they are not challenging themselves to climb higher, slide faster or learning how to get yourself as close to the sky as possible on a swing. 

What could be more sad that a fenced off playground?  

18 Wheeled Morgues

 

18 Wheeled Morgues

18x12 oil on Panel

The death rate in New York City overwhelmed its system for burying the dead. Someone in 

the city died every 2 minutes, four times the normal death rate. Hospital morgues, funeral homes and cemeteries overflowed and backed up. Hospitals ran out of body bags, military teams were called in to assist in mortuary work, and funeral homes were working around 

the clock. One funeral director said “the death rate is so high, there’s no way we can 

bury or cremate them fast enough.”

Refrigerated trucks were parked behind hospitals to serve as makeshift mobile morgues. Stacked on quickly built shelves, each truck could hold 36 bodies and store them until 

funeral homes could accommodate them. After dying without family or friends, the favorite aunt, the checker at the market, the teacher who had inspired kids year after year, 

the beloved spouse were stored in body bags in 18 wheelers.

Playing to an Empty House

Playing to an Empty House
16x12 oil on panel

From road house to grand auditorium the sharing of music stopped. The uniquely human experience of coming together to enjoy live music was prohibited. Fleets of musicians have no income, musical institutions can’t sustain their losses and there is a creeping realization of how long this dark period may last. Originally thought of as a mere intermission in an ancient tradition it now appears that gathering for a musical experience may change forever.

Arias sung from balconies, orchestral pieces delivered by zoom and performances in darkened concert halls are sweetly tragic. Musicians need to play and people want the emotional experience that only music can deliver, but performance is interactive, among the artists and between musicians and their audience. The communion we feel when sharing

live music simply doesn’t survive social distancing.

Rewilding

Rewilding

20x16, oil on panel

Buffalo walked the empty highway in New Deli, wild boar roamed the deserted streets of Italian towns and wild turkeys strutted around Harvard Yard. The animals, always there, were free to reclaim their territory unabashedly. Isolated in our homes, these photos dredged up Hollywood versions of a post apocalyptic planet.

This scene was captured by my son who had ridden his bike across an absolutely empty Golden Gate Bridge. The usual line of cars climbing Muir Headlands was missing as were the knots of traffic near viewpoints. In the quiet a coyote stood squarely and met his gaze.

On a subsequent ride a bobcat, notoriously shy, trotted by him with a squirrel in its mouth and never acknowledged having human company.