Pandemic Adjustments: studio life at home during quarantine

Well, these are strange times. I’ve been Sheltering in Place with my family in my San Jose home for about six weeks, which seems as unbelievable as the rest of this. We all have our stories of what this pandemic has meant to us-- we all have our losses and grief and struggles with the unknown and making the best of things- or not. Here’s my brief log for posterity.

I started out scoffing at the thought of this ‘Novel Coronavirus’ really being a big deal, I thought the concept and phrasing of ‘Social Distancing’ was overkill. But then the news kept trickling in and I started to really understand what we would be up against. In some ways it’s all so simple: soap works REALLY well when you use it right ,and getting a visual sense of how and why quarantining and ‘flattening the curve’ works was helpful. I got fully on board with the spirit of social distancing-- the idea that it is an act of caring for the vulnerable in our communities. 

And then Santa Clara University closed its campus, and my exhibition at the campus’ de Saisset Museum was shuttered for the time being. Yes, that exhibition I’d worked on for the past 2.5 years that focused on audiences connecting through the shared experience of touching and handling art in a public setting. That was a blow. Understandable in the context, but a huge disappointment. 

And then my kids’ schools shut down, and the next week we learned that we would be required to shelter in place starting the next day (March 17). So I rushed off to my downtown studio to pick up supplies and works-in-progress and tools, and figured I’d just work from home for a couple of weeks. 

I had a few large stitched ‘Holdable’ sculptures to finish for delivery to an exhibition at Root Division in San Francisco the following week. That was cancelled. When I dropped off that work in SF I was going to pick up a piece from a collector to borrow for a show at the San Jose Museum of Quilts and Textiles. That was postponed, as were the presentations I was set to give to students at Los Gatos schools. I still needed to order tools for the workshop I’d teach at the California Sculpture Symposium in mid April. That was cancelled. My August teaching gig at Penland School of Arts and Crafts in North Carolina was cancelled. My Artist Talk at the de Saisset Museum and several tours I was going to lead were cancelled with the news that the campus would not re-open before the end of the exhibition. Along with everyone else, my personal life plans were being gutted by the pandemic. 

I grudgingly made masks - a day-long activity- and worked with my kids to sort out their school-from-home reality. I have to give huge kudos to teachers-- they had to scramble to make an already challenging job work in hard circumstances. We’re lucky enough to have the access to technology that allows our kids’ teachers to meet with them and post assignments via computers. ‘Classroom management,’ the wrangling of kids to simply be able to teach, seems infinitely more difficult via a Zoom meeting.  I’m grateful that my kids are generally on board with this whole thing-- we’ve had some yelling fights, don’t get me wrong, but for the most part they’re adapting well to having me help administer their learning. My boys are in 4th and 7th grade, so there’s a lot more independence built in, and I’m negotiating when to step in and when to leave things up to them. 

And the whole time I’ve also been making things in my studio at home. 

I have a room at the back of the house that we fixed up as a studio when we moved here four years ago-- it has table and counter space, some storage, big windows, and track lighting. And it had been a little cluttered and unused since I usually spend my studio time and energy at my big downtown Alameda Artworks space, necessary for the huge multiple pieces I was making for InTouch. I’ve taken some time to clean, tidy, and reorganize my home studio, and even built a tool hanger along one wall once it really sunk it that I’d be here for a while. It really is a nice space, and the afternoon light through the windows is particularly appreciated.

The biggest change in my studio practice has been that I’ve turned away from large-scale, public works for now. I had thought InTouch would be the launching point for a move in that direction because I really loved engaging my community in both the making and experiencing phases. Now not only does there seem to be a big damper on my efforts to find subsequent venues for InTouch, but it also seems unlikely that people will be willing and eager to touch things in public again soon. Don’t get me wrong, I trust that in general we’ll go back to what’s familiar and feels necessary, and I’d argue that the human urge to experience things through touch falls under that. But I have put big/public/touchable plans on the shelf for now. 


I’ve turned instead back towards smaller, more intimate works using the materials and supplies I have on hand here at my home studio, which includes an embarrassingly large amount of colored wool-- embarrassing since I rarely even use non-naturally-colored wool in my work. We’ll see where this goes. I’ll write about what I’m working on in the next post, but suffice to say I’m keeping myself sane and rather happy by setting myself creative problem-solving challenges. It helps me keep the stress at bay and feels productive and meaningful. Which is enough, right now.