Pulp Paintings
Spring and Summer 2020
Handmade Flax and Abaca paper with watermarking and pulp painting, based on photographs of window views from friends during the COVID-19 Pandemic
As I recovered from COVID-19 back in early May, and still under confinement in my home-studio in Elmhurst, Queens, my window offered the much needed connection to an outside world that had become unwelcoming and dangerous. The neighborhood where I've been living became the epicenter of the pandemic in New York City, and the thought of going to a nearby hospital was more horrifying than having the virus in my system. The big window helped me deal with my own condition because it offered some daily comfort as the sun entered in the mornings and the cool air could be felt in the evenings. From my window I could see the building across, part of the street below, and in the clear days, the bluest sky of the singular Spring of 2020. This window helped me get well, and inspired me to create an international conference program featuring performance artists from four continents. My window served as a gate to other windows in the program Chronicles of Confinement as it allowed me to speak about my own isolation while finding virtual ways to be connected to the rest of the world.
Hector Canonge, August 2020
Hector Canonge, August 2020
Playground of the Gods
My totem poles
Erected in stone
A generation of three
Yesterday, today, tomorrow
Standing side by
My guardian angels
Accompanying my solitude
Watching over me
By the window
Joyce Maio, July 2020
My totem poles
Erected in stone
A generation of three
Yesterday, today, tomorrow
Standing side by
My guardian angels
Accompanying my solitude
Watching over me
By the window
Joyce Maio, July 2020
AT THE WINDOW...SUMMER 2020
Mornings I gaze out, tea cup in hand, a prayer on lips, through the only lighfilled window. One very early morning; a man in black kimono, appears, an apparition far in the courtyard, raising a glistening sword above his head. Though dreamlike he, like what's been happening, is all too real.
Outside, hours shopping, sunset strolling with friends and photographing flowers in Riverside and Central Parks. Alert, I step away from unconscious or unmasked people coming too close.
Inside, I counsel clients, aided by the star light of stern planetary patterns and the wisdom of the I CHING. On ZOOM: two zen sanghas, Qi Gong, sweet minutes with family in North Carolina.
I remain in gratitude; no one I love or know well is sick or dying. I watch our startling times, the heavy resistance of the world; an evolutionary moment.
At night, I shut the AC and open that window. The outside
goes to sleep.
Linda
Mornings I gaze out, tea cup in hand, a prayer on lips, through the only lighfilled window. One very early morning; a man in black kimono, appears, an apparition far in the courtyard, raising a glistening sword above his head. Though dreamlike he, like what's been happening, is all too real.
Outside, hours shopping, sunset strolling with friends and photographing flowers in Riverside and Central Parks. Alert, I step away from unconscious or unmasked people coming too close.
Inside, I counsel clients, aided by the star light of stern planetary patterns and the wisdom of the I CHING. On ZOOM: two zen sanghas, Qi Gong, sweet minutes with family in North Carolina.
I remain in gratitude; no one I love or know well is sick or dying. I watch our startling times, the heavy resistance of the world; an evolutionary moment.
At night, I shut the AC and open that window. The outside
goes to sleep.
Linda
