Original oil painting on Belgian linen canvas.

The shelter in place order began in March, and the one room of my studio apartment suddenly became every room. I ate, drank, slept, painted, worked, cried, celebrated, exercised, read, and daydreamed in that one room. It wasn’t long before I began to feel like the walls were closing in on me and daylight was slowly fading.

I moved out of my cramped Downtown Chicago studio in July of 2020 which was critical to my psychological health. I knew I had found the perfect place when I saw how the light came pouring into the front room. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that light until I was standing in it. This painting is from the first bit of joy that I felt after the struggle of moving and getting everything situated in a “livable” arrangement. Not perfect, just livable.

If These Walls Could Talk
They would discuss the light of course
It’s smooth arrival and quiet departure
How it bends and bounces
Curves and scatters
It strikes the floor and softens a room
Laying a bright warm blanket over everything living and motionless, it delivers the will to grow