In early March 2020 a novel Coronavirus, Covid-19, moved outward from Wuhan, China and transformed life around the globe. I felt called to record the images that described the depth of the changes the virus brought to individuals, their cities and the fabric of their societies.

The last painting of the series at the top, and as you scroll downward you are traveling back in time

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To address the misery that Covid-19 inflicted on individuals and economies, labs around the world swung into gear. Formerly the fastest development of a vaccine had taken 4 years and the average timeline stretched between 10 and 15 years. In the spring of 2020, as quarantine orders were issued by one country after another around the world the hope of having a vaccine anytime soon seemed ridiculous. 

Operation Warp Speed was announced in mid-May by the US Department of Health and Human Services (HHS). The federal government offered hefty funding, built infrastructure needed for the effort and guaranteed the manufacture of any successful vaccine developed. HHS, in effect, purchased serum prior to knowing it’s degree of success. This funding allowed pharmaceutical companies to run preclinical and phase I, II and III clinical trials and develop manufacturing capability all at the same time rather in the formerly mandated sequence.

HHS’s bold move was a game changer. Multiple vaccinations were developed with head-spinning speed. The federal government cut red tape and expedited processes with no deviation in the required research, investigation or review board approvals. Building on epidemiological research that had been conducted for years, the first fully tested immunization was approved for emergency use in December of 2020. Three vaccines had been created in a record-crushing 9 months. 

As the manufacture and distribution of the inoculations kicked into gear, Americans began to emerge from a year like no other. “I’m Fully Vaccinated” stickers were worn with wonder and relief. Masks came off and family and friends fell into one another’s arms. Businesses and schools cautiously reopened and a new era began to take shape.

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This is the last painting in my Covid series. Recording the images I never would have imagined I’d see helped me get through the long, lonely year. My former subjects lost all color in light of the global drama playing out, and I decided to look straight at the historic event and record the visuals with a brush and oil paint in order to create a historical document.

Looking at the arresting vision of a huge and utterly empty urban intersection, the otherworldly vision of a workman disinfecting city streets at night, the dark vision of a medical team enshrouded in PPE intubating a patient and 18 wheeled morgues chock full of body bags helped me understand what was happening outside the walls of my house. The mournful vision of an empty diner, a closed playground and a grandmother placing her palms against a window told me about how many layers of pain and suffering people were enduring. The sweet drive of women all across the country to sit at long-forgotten sewing machines and create stacks of masks at their kitchen tables, and the mysterious fever to bake bread gave me reason to smile. Still inexplicable - the hoarding of toilet paper!

I hope you enjoyed the series and that it perhaps helped you reflect on the unusual times we lived through. With the vaccine setting life back on a more familiar path, I find myself, like so many others, eager to focus on something else. I look forward to again focusing on the beauty of nature and people and finding the moments and visions that connect us to the magic and majesty of life. 

Stay tuned - I’ll share as I explore!

Physical distancing was mandated by governments around the world in order to protect people from both contracting and sharing the Covid-19 virus. This public health strategy was key in stemming the spread of the deadly disease. However, the isolation created by the stay at home orders took a toll mentally and emotionally on many. 

Elders proved to be at greater risk of getting very sick, requiring hospitalization and possibly dying, consequently they were encouraged to be especially cautious. No group suffered more chronic loneliness. Many seniors living alone or in care facilities were confined to their rooms or apartments for approximately a year. 

Electronic methods of working, socializing and ordering goods  which became a lifeline for younger people were closed to many of the elderly. Unfamiliar with or resistant to technology, seniors remained isolated from friends, neighbors and family. Social isolation frequently leads to depression and other mental health issues which are linked to worsening memory loss and higher mortality rates in older individuals.

The forms that love was expressed were wrenching to witness, but so sweet. Birthdays were celebrated by drive bys with honking horns and banners, face-to-face visits were conducted through closed windows, and hugs could only happen through sheets of plastic. We are social animals and connection is fundamental, which was proven by the countless innovative methods that loving friends and family devised to bridge the gap and express their love to one another.

In the twenty two days after May 25, the day that George Floyd was killed, there were 868 recorded protests in 326 counties attended by some 757,000 people. In the midst of a pandemic, large protests about racism and police brutality were attended by people of all ethnic backgrounds and skin colors. The use of excessive force by the police was the catalyst, but the growing understanding that black and brown people were suffering far more due to the virus had thrown light on the systemic racism in our country. 

The burden of essential work falls unevenly among racial and ethnic groups. In New York City people of color comprise three quarters of the city’s essential workers. Latino and black communities suffered higher percentages of hospitalizations and deaths due to Covid.

Essential workers are unable to telecommute, consequently didn’t have the luxury of distancing.  Every day they pulled on masks and ventured out to cook, clean, deliver food, carry mail, drive buses, stock shelves, patrol the streets and tend to the ill. Essential workers were unable to afford to take time off or told by their bosses that they were not allowed time off.  Many workers have no paid sick leave and fewer than 10% can take 2 weeks off, the recommended Covid 19 quarantine period. Many paid with their lives. 

The stark inequities in treatment by the police and the the disproportionate loss within certain types of workers in the economy fueled a wide recognition that we all have to be the change. We need to read the books that point the way, institute changes in your own life and be receptive to thinking and living in new ways. 

When the pandemic made its way to the US it was understandable that hand sanitizer, cleaning products, thermometers and masks were snapped up from stores. However, when the "stay at home" orders were issued certain isles in stores seemed to empty immediately. Most notably missing was toilet paper. If you didn't already have a supply on hand you were up the proverbial creek. 

The mixed messages from State and National officials created anxiety and psychologists say that when people feel anxious and threatened behaving irrationally is common. Articles describe that the stockpiling of toilet paper wasn’t necessarily a selfish act of hoarding, it was an attempt to create order in a disordered situation. The cautious and anxious began a stampede panic buying is contagious. Being social animals we take cues from others, and when we see panic buying it causes fear and we tend to do the same. 

Stockpiling became a national past time. Some companies reported a 700% increase in their sales of toilet tissue. To appease dissatisfied customers retail companies restricted the amount that could be purchased at one time. The day you could put a few rolls in your shopping cart you felt victorious.

When worries of the second wave of infections built, it happened all over again! The run on cleaning supplies and pantry staples makes sense, but I still don’t get it, why TP?

What is it like to be young and have no playmates, no time at a park or school? Though social distancing is hard for everyone, children especially suffer and are affected both psychologically and developmentally by the isolation.

Routines, social interactions and friendships are some of the most important factors of a child’s psychological development. Much of early learning comes from watching, listening and mimicking others. Similarly, the development of co-ordination and physical skill takes trial, error and practice. In quarantine social and physical activity is in large part being replaced with more passive screen time. Psychological, social and physical mastery and confidence are not being built while kids are watching life rather than participating in it.

How will today’s change in the traditional childhood forms of stimulation, challenge and social contact effect the overall development of this generation? Running, climbing, singing, swinging and goofing around with other kids isn’t just fun, it’s important!

We tend to focus on things that worry us or need changing. By giving attention to problems we can decide how best to make improvements. However sometimes this drive to root out problems makes us less aware of what is good or even great in our lives and in the world.

In the midst of the fearful rollercoaster ride that the pandemic has forced the whole world on we have seen kindness, selflessness and caring on levels that bring me to tears.  When quarantine orders drove most people home, there were legions of “essential workers” who ensured that we had the care, supplies and services we needed. Healthcare professionals, grocery, retail and food service workers, janitors and maids, transportation workers, gas station attendants and mechanics, postal employees, delivery drivers, grocery store employees and countless more put themselves at risk by interacting with large numbers of people daily. Essential workers, often not granted the privilege to isolate, made social distancing possible for the majority.

Expressions of gratitude bubbled up around the globe. Red Cross volunteers picked thousands of flowers to give to healthcare workers in Italy, The US Air Force Thunderbirds conducted flyovers in many US cities, the statue of Christ the Redeemer who overlooks Rio de Janeiro was illuminated with a stethoscope draped around his neck, and the Eiffel Tower bore “MERCI” in lights while Michelin starred chefs made meals for employees of Parisian hospitals. 

Between 6:00 and 7:00 PM, the most common period for a change of shifts, New York City rang with applause as people opened their windows, stepped onto balconies or fire escapes and clapped, banged pots and pans and chanted their thanks. People in Italy, India and Spain offered similar tributes.

Unable to directly thank all those willing to sacrifice their own safety and well being in this global crisis, people found other ways to express themselves. Home made signs appeared in windows and on lawns, chalk spelled out thanks on sidewalks, and chain link fences became galleries of grateful messages.  Throughout the country and around the world groups of people stood on random corners or in parks and simply held a message of appreciation and gratitude over their head.

Yup, I’m crying again. 

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! 

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.

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.

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?  

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.

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.

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.

Public spaces, now empty, were disinfected at night with fogging machines. The other worldly scenes this gave rise to made me wonder how far into Dante's circles of hell we had ventured.

It’s a uniquely wonderful person who runs into a burning building to help others out or walks into a ward of infectious patients to try to help them through their illness. In both cases the individual knowingly risks their own well being for the sake of another. Usually someone they’ve never met and will probably never see again. Our communal safely rests on these people. They are the fibers of the safety net that catches us when disaster strikes.

When the virus landed hard in New York City and Intensive Care Units were at capacity there was a shortage of Personal Protective Equipment. This meant that doctors, nurses and medical technicians were being placed at risk while assisting the ill.

I again found myself asking, how could this be in a country that has prided itself for its readiness to produce and deliver anything the marketplace needed nearly instantaneously? Aren’t medical supplies foundational to disaster planning? 

I was struck by how uncomfortable the needed protective gear is that medical professionals were fighting for. Layers of nonporous materials, awkward disposable outer layers and face, hair and eye protection. Have you ever tried to breathe through an N95 mask? Every breath is a struggle. 

These people are running into the fire for our sake. They bring years of education and training into one grey room after another to do their best to heal and when they can’t they hold the hands of our friends and family as they pass away. The least we can do is provide the medical community with everything we possibly can to keep them safe. 

As the stay-at-home orders began to reshape our lives, our eyes moved from the large public spaces that were empty to the more intimate gathering places that had been ordered to close. Restaurants, where we go for conversation and community as much as for food were shuttered. First the idea that lunch with a friend or a casual cup of coffee was not possible was a shock, then the realization of the depth of our troubles crystallized seeing all the "Closed" signs. Dread of the economic fallout took hold. Not only were individual workers doing without needed income, but how many businesses could survive being shut down for a couple of weeks? As weeks turned into months we knew that a second disaster was taking place all around us. All those closed doors indicated another form of silent suffering that would take an enormous toll in a whole different way.

As the stay at home orders were issued across the country it was stated that our rare trips out would require a mask. The shortage of personal protective equipment immediately became so severe that those whose lives depended on it, health care workers and first responders, were going without. Workers in essential services from grocery store employees to postal workers also needed to wear masks every day and they were in scarce supply. 

Brigades of women pulled out their long forgotten sewing machines, dusted them off and got to work. Patterns were shared and how-to videos sprung to life. Heroines like Stephanie Oddo, who organized the Healthcare Mask Collaborative, delivered donated fabric and elastic to a wide circle of people who produced thousands of masks at home and delivered them to medical facilities, military groups and essential workers. 

The juxtaposition of sitting at a sunny table in a quiet house and making masks in the hopes of saving the lives of people on the front lines of a pandemic was startling.  I thought of World War II volunteers who helped hospitals suffering from severe shortages, collected scrap metal for reuse and planted Victory Gardens to supplement food rationing. But the United States had built the most stunning consumer society the world had ever seen since that time. We now face overwhelming choices and companies promising to goods faster and cheaper. 

How could this have happened? 

The speed with which cities shut down in quarantine was shocking. It went from a novel event that a few countries were going through to a sight seen around the world, creating scenes that were utterly unique and haunting.

This enormous intersection, built to organize a huge volume of traffic sits empty. Numerous lanes for cars, trucks and bikes are still and the two lone pedestrians seem to emphasize how tiny each individual is in the complex systems we've built. Looking at the scenes of shuttered businesses and empty streets it sinks in that it's going to take a while to build back from the overall silence the pandemic imposed on the world. 

As the pandemic jumped from continent to continent governments around the world told their citizens to wash their hands frequently for at least 20 seconds. Those of us in the west were told that was equivalent to singing the Happy Birthday song twice. We saw videos of how to clean between the fingers, wash the thumb and up and around the wrists. Videos showed police in India washing their hands while doing a dance routine to a Bollywood soundtrack and we saw photos of chaffed red hands suffering from constant scrubbing.

The fact that simple soap and water is our best preventative measure is wondrous in its simplicity and at the same time it's deeply troubling that it is all we have.

This is the first in my Coronavirus series. I saw this man in a busy urban setting and was rocked that someone in a city in our county felt the need to wear a mask. By the time I was half way through the piece the person that stood out on a city street was the one NOT wearing a mask. My head spun. 

The images have been coming so fast that I can't keep up. I planned to do an elbow bump painting, but within a week we weren't getting within six feet of one another and we were pulling on gloves to pick up things that others had possibly touched.