2020 has been a very full year. My memories are a jumble of emotions rather than an orderly timeline. We’re quite literally living through history in the making. Looking back over what I jotted down visually in sketchbooks and small studies reveals where my attention flitted and focused this year.
Daily Grind 1-5 (acrylic on panel)
Remember in the beginning of the year, when Australia was on fire and it was just the absolute worst thing that had happened in recent memory? Around that same time, I was grinding through a never-ending freelance contract and desperately trying to hold on to my identity as a painter despite not having the time and energy to actually paint. Paint what’s in front of you, they say…
Attempting to understand current events through the lens of my work also has given me increased respect for artists whose primary bodies of work unflinchingly document contemporary history as it happens. Producing work when the world is falling apart, about the world falling apart, is cathartic but exhausting, and to persist at producing work in the face of seemingly never-ending tragedy takes a level of willpower and vision that is deeply inspiring.
Steve Mumford’s application of his courtroom illustrator’s efficiency in pencil, ink and watercolor to the protests in Portland were captivating, his skills honed from his experience being embedded with soldiers, capturing the details of American military presence at home and abroad.
Rudy Shepard’s project of memorializing and celebrating newsworthy faces through portraiture has also been on my mind a lot as well. While his portraits are not limited to people of color who were victims of police brutality and systemic racism, he has had no shortage of faces to document.
My urge to create persisted as the other structures of my life dissolved. Art is a preverbal language. This is a way of talking it out, thinking it through, turning it over in my hands, whatever ‘it’ is, whatever terrible thing is happening in the world. The reflex to draw what’s in front of me is in full effect when I am broken down. My dog, a houseplant — proof that something is growing, thriving, blooming is very comforting when the world seems to be falling apart — a face or scene from my news feed. Single-sitting projects are best because I lack the capacity for sustained effort. If it weren’t for taking the dog out, I might not get out of bed. But even if I can do little else, I can draw what’s in front of me. My reference, whatever it is that I’m looking at, is filtered through my emotions in the process of mark-making. If “drawing is thinking,” then painting recruits the emotional self fully into the action.
Now obviously, there are many counterarguments to this idea; art gets made a million different ways and for as many different reasons. Nevertheless, looking back at the works I made during the darkest days of 2020, as I was experiencing the world and the country’s traumas through the screen of my phone and feeling reduced to my most elemental instincts, this interpretation of art-making as a form of emotional processing resonates deeply.
I spent a lot of time feeling like the work I had been making for the past three or so years was embarrassingly unsuited to times like this. So I tried to indulge myself in whatever ideas had sufficient energy behind them to actually get me beyond the inertia of despair, even if only temporarily. Charcoal on raw linen? Quinacridone magenta underpainting? Sure, go for it! Anything instead of doom-scrolling or another nap.
The Loudest Voice In The Room (unfinished; oil on paper)
I don’t usually make political work, but this is what I worked on when I was too angry and heartbroken to focus on anything else. I haven’t finished it; that might be for the best.
As we gear up for what is looking to be a hard winter, I look at this work created in the early days of the pandemic and am chilled by how relevant most of it still feels. We are not finished with the legacy of 2020 by any means.
Early in the fight against the coronavirus that causes COVID-19, healthcare workers battled against the effects of a mystery disease, protecting themselves with limited PPE, improvising with garbage bags and home-made masks. Working at the grocery store was now an “essential” and potentially high-risk job. Disposable gloves and masks became new additions to the accumulated detritus of humanity. Colorful reminders of the ongoing tension punctuated by birdsong and ambulance sirens.
I imagine most of us have friends and family in healthcare even if we ourselves are not. I remember the exhaustion and burnout of healthcare workers, the despair at the suffering and deaths they were unequipped to stop, and frustration that in the face of heartbreaking data there were still people declaring the whole thing a hoax. Science has made some advancements in fighting and curing COVID-19, but the attrition of hospital staff and the zealousness of anti-maskers seem persistent as ever. Even with science on our side, it appears our healthcare system may be fighting the tide of selfishness and denial — American exceptionalism and individualism taken to its maximum expression.
Issues of social justice and “unrest” are far from resolved, though a change in administration is a move in the right direction. A Black woman VP is great (and overdue) as well, but it remains to be seen whether the incoming administration will have the will — much less the way — to make the radical structural changes required for this country.
It is absolutely possible for this country to take care of its citizens, but the process of transitioning our massive national budget from war and corporate subsidies to one providing a government that serves its citizens will be challenging at best. I have less than 100% faith in my government, along with many Americans across party lines, and that won’t be a quick fix.
It will take us a long time to recover — if we even can — as a country, a species, a planet. Something I’ve learned about recovery is that it’s ongoing. It’s a vector, not a location. It’s easy to get complacent and think the challenge is over.
We must stay compassionate but vigilant, with our elected leaders, our friends and family, and most of all with ourselves.
Wishing you a healthy holiday season,
