We have all spent the last 8 months interacting with physical space in new and surprising ways. Considering this theme most broadly, we would like to highlight an artistic exploration of what inhabiting space has meant to you during the COVID - 19 pandemic. We asked the artists: Has confinement changed your relationship to your home? Your sense of time? Has covid caused you to adapt spatial habits? Reconsider the delineation between private and public spheres of existence. How does your art practice morph and evolve inside spaces with new affects, rules, and contexts?
These are some visual ruminations on these questions.
Philippe is a Studio Art (Architectural Studies) major from Douala, Cameroon. His focus is on architectural drawings and sketches. Recently, Philippe has been experimenting with model making, creating architectural models out of woods and various other materials to express the idea of "buildings as sculptures" (Frank Gehry). Moreover, his models are less of the spatial representability of architecture, but more of an investigation of ornamentation in architecture.
Some art exploring the female form
Mexican American Boy well below the poverty threshold scratches paper and skin, and is no longer concerned with beauty, as the world around intently tells him what his suffering means. I was hungry. I stood in lines at food banks with fear for my life. I worked till my skin was drenched in crust and sweat, not knowing when my next meal was. I dropped off my parents at hospitals, not knowing if I'd see them again. I walked with fear that the next white person that entered my workplace might not like my language, my name, or my skin. I was angry to watch people die. I was angry at being alive, at continuing the tradition of struggle. I stared deep into myself until I became my memories, and my art became memories. Creation became godliness, creation was dancing with the opposition--fevered dreams of demonhood and the pervasive images of such, gifts of chronic sleep paralysis. These pictures are being home after years of avoiding where I came from. And these images are the ego of a poor boy convinced that ugly scrawls must be seen. My life was never traditionally beautiful, it was broken, sweaty, hungry, angry, never alone, but always in isolation.
More time spent noticing— the regularly spaced doorways between doorways, the afternoon light across my room, tall windows and bright blue skies. Time was ambiguous and repetitive, a series of shadows across rooms and steps on sidewalks looking up at the buildings around me. Philadelphia, fall 2020.
One of the ways in which Covid-19 has affected our relationship to the public and private spheres of life is through the physical cloaking of the face — and thus the interior self — in the ritual of wearing a mask. In my piece, the subject (our very own beautiful Sarah Weinshel) looks towards the viewer, but with the bottom half of her face concealed, so that we aren't quite sure what she is thinking. The differences in media add to the dichotomy between self and mask, as the black ripped tape starkly contrasts with the soft color pencil.