c o n n e c t u i n o s n t a ble
Leslie Barlow Ryan Stopera 2020
Chris, Remi, and Kia
With so much suffering in the world right now it’s disorienting to focus on the good that has come from this. Now, more than ever, I’m thankful for what I have: a healthy child, a faithful partner, and a home to live and be comfortable in. I’m fortunate enough to never have experienced great loss in my life so far, and I look to the strength of those around me who have experienced it in order to prepare myself for the inevitable grief I will feel one day. For now though, I’ll hug my child extra tight before bedtime, tell my wife I love her whenever I leave the house, spend an extra 15 minutes talking with family, and remember that life is fluid and ever-changing.
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
I am reminded of what I am made of every morning when I rise to face this change. I am reminded of all I have each and every time my child laughs, or I sip something warm, from the safety of our home. The collective pain body is real, and I feel it like a deep bruise or a persistent humming in my ear. Still, I see rebirth all around me...and the resilient queer Black femme artist in me can’t help but h o p e.
alissa and khalil
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
lichun
My husband died 3 years ago. Grieving and learning to be alone has been very hard. I am trying to do the best I can every day. When something so devastating happens you are in disbelief and shock. What can you do? I’ve been keeping myself busy taking pottery classes, making art, exercising, talking with friends, and learning how to play guitar. All of this saved me. Then the pandemic happened. I guess I will continue to do what I’ve been doing.
It’s the only choice I have.
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
kenji
I feel closer to the people I cook for than ever before. Their coming and goings are the shape of my days. These brief and distanced interactions foster a sense of careful hope in me.
liz, nolan, and Frances This whole thing has been a challenge, but we’re super thankful to have this extra time with Frances.
and asim arragsan, Amira, nimo,
Both of my parents have been hospitalized and given the current circumstances with COVID-19 aren’t allowed to have visitors. I’ve spent much of my time advocating on the phone, advocating for them, especially my dad who was in a two week long coma recently—it’s been humbling and emotionally exhausting. But I’ve also been spending a lot of time quarantining with family and helping home school my nieces and nephew while their parents are at work, which is fun & fulfilling. And now that its Ramadan, I’m really enjoying cooking iftar at my moms house, gathering and praying with loved ones. Honestly, Ramadan has always felt like a reset button for me and I think we’re going to be okay.
Yes!
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
Taking time to apply lotion in the sun. Nap in the sun and follow it in the house. Give myself permission to read, keep 10+ tabs open and going deep in the rabbit hole of new music, the criterion channel, watch lists, jokes, bibliography of suicidal writers, blogs that are just recordings of eavesdroppings, watch interviews of phoebe waller-bridge and donald glover, and using Japanese reality TV as a mirror and convo starter and writing prompts for inner prosperity work, talking to crows, not wasting time and heartbeats on the government’s lies and systems, procrastinating on ALL adult responsibilities. Remembering the ones who left us, now and long time ago, folding their spirits and threads into my braids and tongue and breathe out.
xiaolu and moto
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
Maryan and Muzamil
I have been home since March 14th. It is interesting to be experiencing a global pandemic and the resulting collective trauma, while still maintaining life. You know, the other things did not stop. I am still parenting, working and now also semi-home-schooling my child. To pull from lessons learned in a civil war and in my “refugee-ness” to help mange this time, it is so surreal. I feel like one world has ended and we are in the transition to being in a new world, a different way of living with each other in the larger ecosystem. I think a lot about what do I want to carry into this new place, and how do we collectively heal afterwords. I am grateful to have so much alone time with my child, to see him learning, and get to know him more. To also have opportunities to teach him some of things I’ve always wanted to teach him (like learning to speak Maay Maay, reading the Quran/Arabic and playing the frame drum so he can understand who is better). He says, “I like going to school online, because I like technology”. “And now it’s like my school and your work are neighbors, Mama!” - referring to us working side-by-side throughout the day. We also are working on creating space for us to understand regulating our nervous systems, the importance of moments of quiet time, and pockets of peace throughout our day, in the midst of chaos, of grief, of the unknown, and fear. We are both extroverts so we have to work hard to create space for that.
Dylan We have been home for six weeks, and in my mind it feels like a few days. I cannot remember everything as it honestly blurs together. There is the waking early on weekdays to try to squeeze in more work time. The stress of trying to manage time for two parents working from home - while also feeling the privilege of being safe and working from home. Trying to build and maintain a healthy and lovely home time that is stable in very unstable times. Attempting to make school from home happen... attempting again. And the sleepless nights as I try to release the stress, the anxiety, the weight, and the uncertainty. In this moment of uncertainty I known a few things for certain: my family’s love and our time together is still magical. Our community is resilient and continues to show up and support one another in radical and beautiful ways. Lastly, policy changes we were told were impossible are now possible. As we organize and build through this time I have hope that we can move closer to world as it should be.
Lacora Being in quarantine has been a wave of emotions. Most of the time I feel so blessed to be able to be in the comfort of my home with my family and then sorrow and guilt hit me. I constantly worry am I doing enough, am I productive enough, how do I show that I am doing work well and teaching my child well. Then I get on Instagram read a quote about real life shit and go back to feeling blessed for the time that I have. This pandemic has really shook things up. It has provided new possibilities and opportunities to fight for a better world. Our family is resilient and adapting everyday alongside our community. The only thing I and we as community members need to continue to do is be present as we can, give generously what you can and do something for yourself that brings you joy.
Dylan, lacora and kamaria
Kamaria How is it being home? Um...fun. I miss my friends. I miss my school. And I miss the donut store. And I have been learning some letters .
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
tricia and jared For two people who previously had a work-from-home lifestyle, you wouldn’t expect that this time would be too different, at least to our daily flow. But we’re individuals who thrive on experiences, personal lives and have identities outside of each other. We’re grateful to have found new truth and comfort in closeness during this time.
andres and sarah The first couple of weeks were very stressful. Then we realized how lucky we were for being healthy and having a home, this will definitely change the course of our lives but we get to do it together. As a family.
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
Bill and beverly
For me and my family, quarantine has not jeopardized our access to the basic needs of clean air, water, food, shelter and sleep. After an initial bout with anxiety over safety and responsibility, I have re-established a satisfying routine of daily activity. Long term safety is a recurring source of uneasiness.
jonathan, Ashley, Ceone and Dashiell We went to sleep in March and woke up in May - April seems like it never happened! We’ve ventured through this time warp of uncertainty using technology more than we ever planned, and fighting off the worlds stress by getting back to basics and taking life day by day. While we miss our freedom of movement and association, we find the peace of birds chirping and quiet streets something that was missing before the pandemic.
9” x 15” Oil on paper
9” x 15” Oil on paper
PH
When I’m without words, I look to the prophets and queens. Leaning into life’s insecure nature, I’ve spent the last 10 years in search of a home. A place that would hold me, love me, let me be me. What does it mean when each attempt left the pursuit unfilled? Will I ever find a home? I’m learning that I. AM. HOME. My body is my home. Uncomfortable. Scary. Painful. Looking inward, this extrovert is reckoning with herself. No matter where I end up, I will bring joy. It’s my rich healing balm of stories and tears. Forgiveness is the space within my womb. This season of corna has me letting go of that which no longer serves me. A practice I hope will become ritual; to hold the world loosely so I can hold myself tightly with grace, rainbows, and unicorns. This pandemic is an end of who I was and the beginning of Tiphanie PH (ph)ully integrated.
Art is such a healing practice for so many—both in creating, participating in, and being the audience of. But as a painter who’s work relies on in-person connection and relationship building with others, isolation was making it feel pretty difficult to be motivated or inspired in the studio. I was going through the motions and my heart wasn’t full and my mind was in a million other places on repeat (health, teaching, family, community, friends, death, income, access, technological divides, stress, anxiety, loneliness, emails, politics, revolution.....) Breathe. Then. I asked myself, what can each of us do in this situation and what tools and gifts do we already have? I began painting Zoom / Google Hangout portraits, thinking about how to reflect the importance of human contact and documentation of our stories and likeness during these times. Even though we are isolated, we are very much still interconnected and the way we will get through and survive these times is through our connection and support of one another. Video calls are one joyful and complicated way we do this—amplifying the desire to see and be close one another, to have some sense of normalcy, but through a technological fog adding a strangeness that reminds us this desire cannot be fully realized at this moment. These paintings reflect questions about private/public space, modern methods of communication during a pandemic, loneliness, accessibility, and the importance of the visual arts as a mode of solidarity and a method to document and heal. You are not alone.
Leslie barlow
Right after the pandemic and the stay at home order began I felt a lot of internal pressure to create while the weight of scrolling through news on rising numbers and images of empty streets left me feeling emotionally and physically overwhelmed. I wanted to find a way to do something creative, connect with friends and family safely, and to archive this moment in our history from the perspective of the people living in it. I reluctantly asked my community if I could stop by with a mask on, have a conversation about their experience from their sidewalk, collaboratively develop a location and concept for their photo and capture their family through their windows. I didn’t want to take photos of empty streets. And I didn’t want to ask my friends to give people hope, or to just tell us it was going to be ok. I wanted to photograph people living their lives, and let them share their truth. I asked them to interact as if I wasn’t there, which felt voyeauristic, but real. I wanted to emphasize our disconnection by separating myself from the subjects through the glass. The windows and reflections added layers of texture, color, and light. Thank you to everyone who took time out of their quarantined lives to be a part of this project, to connect during this disconnected time, and to share your experiences. Our brief interactions and the ability to create gave me something to look forward to. The perspective I’ve gained from your stories has been healing.
Ryan stopera
9” x 15” Oil on paper
Thank you to all who contributed their likeness, thoughts, and stories to this zine. Louis alemayehu Chris, kia, and remi park Alissa paris and khalil hanks Lichun Carol Stopera Kenji Yee Liz, nolan, and frances morice Nimo, amira, arragsan, and asim farah serita colette xiaolu wang and moto maryan abdinur and muzamil mustafa adja gildersleve dylan, lacora, and kamaria bradford kesti tricia heuring and jared tuttle andres and sarah perez bill and beverly cottman jonathan, ashley, ceone, and dashiell banks tiphanie ph copeland Amira Warren Duresa Worika Yash Kumthekar Bris Carbajal Patricio DeLara Lissa Karpeh Jessi Olsen Jacob Schroeder Clarence Thomas Billie White Aysha Mazumdar Stanger Sarah Knutson Travis McEwen Maiya Hartman Jonathon Rosemond Maria Robinson Christopher Selleck Emily Welna Taylor Johnson Birdie Freitag Ihotu Ali Esther Callahan clara baker-mhyre