We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Grappling with loneliness during the pandemic, my access to the outside world has never been more severely limited. As opposed to trips and visits with friends, the inside of my home became my daily geography. The lack of human contact affected me. Worse, my bedroom, being rather cold and dank, did not help to buoy my sense of well-being. Alone and quarantined, I struggled to remain upbeat. In an attempt to express how I was feeling, I began to build a series based on the somberness of my mood.

 

The images that I related to were symbolic of the oppression that I was experiencing, creating black and white images that reflected my deep sense of isolation. I eventually found that getting out of my home for walks with my dog offered the color I needed to counter my cloistered existence, finding a sense of optimism reflected in the world around me. 

 

Engaging my senses became critical in maintaining optimism. The beauty of my neighborhood was even more appreciated. 

Upon returning home and uploading my photos felt like giving myself unexpected gifts. This process reminded me of how, when reading books, I could be carried away to distant lands. It reacquainted me with my child within and allowed me "to play" with my imagination.