WEEK 2

14 days of self-imposed quarantine down- with (seemingly) no signs of the virus. A small victory, I suppose. It’s strange how time both elongates and contracts in confinement. When I think back to just over two weeks ago, finishing my last couple days of work, talking to my co-workers, it feels like an eternity. Yet, the days go by quickly. I journal each morning and, as I consider what to write about the past day, I often struggle to determine what I actually accomplished. Thinking back over these two weeks, I feel like I’ve barely finished anything, despite having seemingly worked on all number of projects and tasks. I haven’t felt bored during these two weeks, but what do I have to show for my efforts?

I have always experienced a sense of pressure when it comes to free time, particularly because I have so little of it when I am at work. I am a list-maker and derive a feeling of accomplishment from checking off items from these lists. And while chores like “vacuum the living room” can be easily marked as complete, my time in isolation has been primarily devoted to unpacking the various creative projects and ideas that occupy the back of my mind. This type of work isn’t something that can be finished, crossed off, and then onto the next thing- it requires thought and ample time. And now, presented with an indefinite amount of time, I am learning to break from the pressure to complete, figuring out how to take my time, to make progress while also allowing myself space to relax.

In the present climate, I am privileged with the luxury of controlling my time. It’s just me in my apartment- free to set my own schedule, to do what I want and when I want. My time has always been valuable to me (who of us isn’t always wishing for more time?), so it’s funny to now be faced with nothing but time. As my isolation continues into the next week and into the indefinite future, I’m sure I’ll continue to stumble to figure out the best way to approach this new way of living and, hopefully (eventually) check off some of those projects from my mental list along the way.

XXX

This past week has been mostly grey and overcast, with some moments of rain. But today the sun broke through the clouds and beamed in through all the windows. “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb” says the old adage. The state of the world still feels very lion-ish, but the brightness and warmer temperatures today felt like a celebratory way to usher in April.

I’ve been sitting on my back porch since mid-afternoon, soaking in the light as I work on various tasks. At some point into my self-quarantine, I told myself that on the first day of April I would plant some seeds. Perhaps it’s a touch premature to start planting (especially considering the temperamental nature of Midwest weather), but I sowed the seeds in my collection of containers and pots. The beautiful day and the beginning of a new month seems a fitting time to begin this process of growing and cultivating- guess we’ll see how it goes…

I feel like the photos from this week capture a range of moods. The news has not been particularly uplifting and, even on walks around my neighborhood, there are signs (quite literally) of how the world has been impacted by coronavirus. I’ve tried to present more day-to-day elements (i.e. I’ve been building my mixology skills), but also included some self-indulgent ‘selfies’ (in my defense there’s no one else to take pictures of!), which give me a chance to capture interesting light or tap into more creative expression.

WEEK 1

Today marks a week of self-imposed quarantine for me. As every family member and podcast host I’ve heard from in the past week has said, these are strange times. The coronavirus has left me unemployed sooner than expected and a time that, for the past couple years, has been marked by big solo adventures, has suddenly (and indefinitely) become a solo adventure confined to my apartment.

Freedom of movement remains intact- Chicago has not yet mandated people stay inside for all but the essential. I am able to leave my apartment, to walk around my neighborhood, trying to maintain a distance from anyone who passes me on the sidewalk. But bars, restaurants, movie theaters, and clothing stores- the “non-essentials”- are shuttered, with doors bearing handwritten signs reading “Closed for COVID,” “Back when this all blows over,” “Will re-open…?”

And so aside from the occasional walk, I stay inside.

I am coming from a place of financial and medical privilege. And while I anxiously await a response to my unemployment application, I have not reached dire straits. I am young and healthy, but also have friends and family who support my choice to self-quarantine and who encourage health precautions, rather than rebuke them as “over-the-top” or “paranoid.”

So, with that in mind, amid the anxiety and uncertainty, this week has been about re-grounding, re-assessing, and shaping a new routine for this brave new world.

I moved to my apartment in October. Upon moving in, I spent days modifying the space around me: tearing through audiobooks as I painted almost every room, hanging posters and photographs on the walls, and populating shelves with books and various trinkets I’ve amassed over the years. It’s the first time I’ve ever lived alone and I wanted the space to be mine- a complete reflection of my personality and taste (within my budget…).

Yet, despite the hours of labor laying blue tape around seemingly miles of trim and the back-aching work of hauling my mattress alone up two flights of stairs, I haven’t spent much time in my apartment. Working long hours during the week, it’s home through the back door and collapse into bed. And now, this space I have created for myself has become the grounding point for my world.

Early evening on the first day of isolation and the light beamed into the kitchen through the back window, causing a glass of beer I had poured for myself to glow. With daylight savings time in place, the sun sets later, spending the course of the day traveling from the front of my apartment to the back, before finally retreating behind the buildings beyond my alley.

The glowing beer caught my attention. I dug out my camera, dormant since my trip to Milwaukee, and photographed the beer and then other objects scattered about the kitchen light, the sun slowly dwindling. Since then, I’ve left my camera on the couch or countertops- ready to capture these small moments. In my most immediate world of quarantine, that’s what life has boiled down to- small moments. Now more than ever since living alone, I am learning to enjoy my own company, to channel long pent-up creativity that often finds no release during my work season, and to savor the sheer amount of time I’ve been forcibly given.

I’ve seen photographers on Instagram posting images of empty city streets- areas usually jammed with people, left ghostly to curb the spread of disease. Yet, for me, I don’t see these grandiose abandoned spaces in my isolated day-to-day. I see my apartment- the way the light moves throughout the day and glows orange to white to orange before fading into blue. I see myself in the mirror or squeezed into a tiny rectangle in video chats with my sister. I make faces at my reflection, I laugh, I think about how these are strange times.

Onto week two.

XXX

I wanted to share some images I’ve taken in my first week of self-imposed quarantine. As movement has been limited and many peoples’ lives are confined to their homes, I wanted to capture the small moments of my life during this world-altering time. It’s ironic, in a way, that the coronavirus is having global repercussions and will forever leave its mark on history. Yet, for many of us, amid this huge moment for the world, life feels very small and banal, limited by social distancing and shelter in place orders. It’s strange to think that a time of crisis has the potential to be so mundane.

And while, for me, the time presented by isolation has provided an opportunity to tackle projects, I am trying to be mindful that what presents as a quiet time for me is chaotic for others. A pandemic is not a gift. As more people become sick, as the economy shrivels, and as people watch their future and present situations with fearful uncertainty, there is no doubt that the world is in crisis. I worry how things will look, how things will have been irrevocably altered, when we finally pass through this shadow. For many people in the world, the terror of uncertainty is something they already experience- before, during, and after this pandemic. I am grateful to feel anxious while reading the news and not because a loved one is ill, to feel moments of boredom instead of fear for my immediate safety. I am trying to reflect on the complexity of this time, while also making the most of my own situation as I wait, with everyone else, for us to regain our footing in a healthier world.

Milwaukee Art Museum

I drove out to Milwaukee for a day trip. It had been a few years since I had been to the city and a three-day weekend and sunny weather seemed a good excuse to make the journey north. My first stop was the Milwaukee Art Museum. I arrived just as it opened and spent several hours wandering the galleries. I hadn’t been to an art museum in several months and, instead of simply passively observing, I attempted to approach the works with a critical eye, taking note of what caught my attention or what might serve as potential reference material. I’ve collected a few images (my own and sourced from the internet) of pieces that particularly stuck out to me.

SUNNY DAYS

It’s still only early February, but I can’t say I’ve been diligent when it comes to my resolution to carry my camera with more consistency- although I’d be quick to blame this on Chicago winter. While this winter has felt mild compared to previous years, I have a tendency to embrace homebody tendencies during the weekend. Working a job that keeps me outside more often than not during the week makes the idea of staying indoors at home even more attractive.

However, recently, I pried myself away from the warmth of my apartment and ventured out to the Garfield Park Conservatory. The day was cold and clear, with the bright sunshine that comes with those especially chilly days. It seems Chicagoans are like-minded when it comes to taking advantage of a sunny day by visiting a space heated to tropical temperatures… The conservatory was crowded with people strolling amongst towering cacti, lush green palms, and plants with prehistoric-sized leaves. The sun streamed through the building’s glass paned frame, beaming down on the foliage and catching the textures, sheens, and colors of the conservatory’s varied vegetation. While I didn’t have my camera with me, it was impossible not to pull out my phone to try and capture the ways in which the light peeked around the plants or glinted off their leaves.

Having come off a recent stretch of cloudy days here in Chicago, these glimpses of sunlight feel especially precious. Maybe it’s the increased amount of oxygen (placebo??), but there’s a positive energy that comes with surrounding yourself in greenery, especially when paired with a little warmth and sunlight. Not sure what I’m trying to say, other than forcing myself to interact with the world outside my apartment usually proves to be a good decision. Any bit of sun in the winter is something to be relished and, hopefully with improved discipline, I’ll be able to catch more of it on camera (not just my phone!).

WINTER IN BLACK AND WHITE

I spent the end of 2019 and the beginning of 2020 in Northern Wisconsin. I would go for a walk every day, bringing my camera along- armed with a different lens or picture profile setting. For a couple of these walks, I set my camera to shoot in black and white. With a heavy blanket of snow covering everything and the trees shed of their leaves, there wasn’t much color to be found and, on the first walk, thick cloud cover washed everything to a flat, muted palette. The next day, the clouds dissipated, allowing the sun to work its way through the bare tree branches and sparkle off the fresh layer of snow. A complete contrast to the dullness of the previous day! The blinding highlights of the snow contoured by deep shadows created an entirely new impression from the overcast environment.

The beginning of the New Year is always a time of reflection for me and I’m hoping to spend more time with my camera, photographing the world around me. I want to focus on taking photographs, to engage in the action of being in the world and interacting with it via a camera, almost with a thoughtlessness. I think I often don’t keep a camera with me (with the exception of my phone) because I’m held back by the idea that whatever I’m doing or wherever I’m going is too mundane or not worthy of being photographed. The most recent posts on this blog have been travel images and while I love to take pictures while I am away from home, I am interested in taking more time to engage with the familiar, to reexamine the mundane and find ways of framing the everyday things around me with curiosity. I’m sure many of the results will be far from perfect photographs, but it’s a chance to train my eye, to look deeper into the familiar, and to get into the habit of photographing. Hoping to create more and overthink less in 2020!

4TH OF JULY COLOR

A few leftovers from warmer weather… Loving the range of mixed lighting sources- street lights, fading sunlight, fireworks, etc. They provide such vibrant color; seems fitting for the summertime.

BRUGGE + BRUXELLES

GRAN CANARIA

Las Palmas / Agaete / Tejeda

GLASGOW

(iPhone 6)