2020 in Review

From the pandemic to politics, 2020 was… something else. It also inspired a slew of essays, artwork, and poetry. Now it gets its own portfolio page.

When the pandemic panic first hit

“Short of Breath: The cruel twist of a virus attacking our lungs when we’re already hyperventilating” Published by Scribe March 27, 2020Person by person turned patient, the virus steals into lung cells and corrupts them against the human in favor of the viral. As individuals sicken, they grow short of breath. Their rhythm is broken by the spasm of dry coughs. Some describe constriction or a heavy weight pressing on the chest. As their alveoli die off and fluid pools, they cannot pull in full lungfuls. Some suffocate; some drown in themselves.Then there’s person by person, the population: the rest of us, uninfected by the dreaded virus but spreading information about too few ventilators, too many spring breakers, empty grocery shelves, overflowing ICUs, lying political leaders, desperate scientists, missed paychecks, collapsing economic sectors…We, too, feel short of breath. […] — “Short of Breath: The cruel twist of a virus attacking our lungs when we’re already hyperventilating”
Published by Scribe
March 27, 2020
Person by person turned patient, the virus steals into lung cells and corrupts them against the human in favor of the viral. As individuals sicken, they grow short of breath. Their rhythm is broken by the spasm of dry coughs. Some describe constriction or a heavy weight pressing on the chest. As their alveoli die off and fluid pools, they cannot pull in full lungfuls. Some suffocate; some drown in themselves.
Then there’s person by person, the population: the rest of us, uninfected by the dreaded virus but spreading information about too few ventilators, too many spring breakers, empty grocery shelves, overflowing ICUs, lying political leaders, desperate scientists, missed paychecks, collapsing economic sectors…
We, too, feel short of breath. […]

“Gloves and Groceries: The quest to stay both safe and sane during a pandemic of fear” Published by Indelible Ink March 27, 2020It was bright purple, the sort of medical-grade nitrile I last saw on my dental hygienist during a checkup. It must have clung to the hand of a fellow shopper who, paranoid about all the surfaces they’d just touched in the store — their grocery cart’s handle, fridge doors, a keypad at self-checkout — was so frantic to get it off their skin, they couldn’t be bothered to look around for a trash can. They just stripped it and dropped it to the pavement.It looked a bit forlorn, like a deflated balloon. But, also like a balloon, there was something festive about it: a pop of cheerful color against the asphalt. […] — “Gloves and Groceries: The quest to stay both safe and sane during a pandemic of fear”
Published by Indelible Ink
March 27, 2020
It was bright purple, the sort of medical-grade nitrile I last saw on my dental hygienist during a checkup. It must have clung to the hand of a fellow shopper who, paranoid about all the surfaces they’d just touched in the store — their grocery cart’s handle, fridge doors, a keypad at self-checkout — was so frantic to get it off their skin, they couldn’t be bothered to look around for a trash can. They just stripped it and dropped it to the pavement.
It looked a bit forlorn, like a deflated balloon. But, also like a balloon, there was something festive about it: a pop of cheerful color against the asphalt. […]

“Artists in the Time of Covid-19: Please don’t be a fair-weather patron” Published by Indelible Ink March 21, 2020Even in good months, these professionals approach me at the reception desk to ask if their paychecks are ready. Some of them ask repeatedly between lessons. At least one has driven her check directly to the bank, because if she didn’t deposit it before 4 p.m., her rent check would bounce, and she’d owe her landlord another fifty bucks (four lessons taught) as a late fee.Even in good months, I feel for these people.Then there are months like this one, this strange spring season in which the coronavirus pandemic blooms across the map. […] — “Artists in the Time of Covid-19: Please don’t be a fair-weather patron”
Published by Indelible Ink
March 21, 2020
Even in good months, these professionals approach me at the reception desk to ask if their paychecks are ready. Some of them ask repeatedly between lessons. At least one has driven her check directly to the bank, because if she didn’t deposit it before 4 p.m., her rent check would bounce, and she’d owe her landlord another fifty bucks (four lessons taught) as a late fee.
Even in good months, I feel for these people.
Then there are months like this one, this strange spring season in which the coronavirus pandemic blooms across the map. […]

“A Drawing a Day” Self-Published Art Project Eight weeks of art, March 29 - May 24, 2020Toward the end of March 2020, the spreading Covid-19 pandemic forced most workplaces to shutter. I was lucky enough to have a white collar job I could continue performing remotely, and a safe home in which to shelter… indefinitely. Still, two weeks in, I realized I’d been feeling anxious, cooped up day and night reading all the no good very bad news. To keep myself from spiraling into nervous despair, I needed to institute a new distracting, self-calming activity: daily drawings!Each day’s illustration is commissioned by someone from my far-flung community of fellow self-isolators. I put out a call for submissions: texting family members, Zooming with friends, and posting on Facebook. A dozen suggestions poured in by the end of the first day. Thanks, everyone! […] — “A Drawing a Day”
Self-Published Art Project
Eight weeks of art, March 29 - May 24, 2020
Toward the end of March 2020, the spreading Covid-19 pandemic forced most workplaces to shutter. I was lucky enough to have a white collar job I could continue performing remotely, and a safe home in which to shelter… indefinitely.
Still, two weeks in, I realized I’d been feeling anxious, cooped up day and night reading all the no good very bad news. To keep myself from spiraling into nervous despair, I needed to institute a new distracting, self-calming activity: daily drawings!
Each day’s illustration is commissioned by someone from my far-flung community of fellow self-isolators. I put out a call for submissions: texting family members, Zooming with friends, and posting on Facebook. A dozen suggestions poured in by the end of the first day. Thanks, everyone! […]

Six months in

“Sunflower Season: Blank black eyes, under-slept, unblinking” Published by Scribe September 8, 2020It must be sunflower season. Their thousands of blank black eyes Bob roadside as we drive East of the city, Out of the asphalt sprawl,Past the mountain pass Up A little closer to the smoky sky. […] — “Sunflower Season: Blank black eyes, under-slept, unblinking”
Published by Scribe
September 8, 2020
It must be sunflower season.
Their thousands of blank black eyes
Bob roadside as we drive
East of the city,
Out of the asphalt sprawl,
Past the mountain pass
Up
A little closer to the smoky sky. […]

“The Flood and the Flame: Weathering the pandemic’s surreal early seasons” Published by Scribe September 12, 2020Stores had reopened. Restaurants served diners indoors. My heart clanged like an old-fashioned smoke alarm, red paint chipping away to raw steel. Look at them, lounging unmasked, eating! Some of the chests in there hid lungs that were secretly on fire with virus, alveoli glowing and crackling like embers. I imagined smoke pluming from their nostrils and eddying around nearby faces. The longer they stayed, the thicker their smog would collect overhead, dark as charcoal. Each breath pulled it into another body like sparks into tinder. How could they not see it, smell it, feel its sting on their skin? […] — “The Flood and the Flame: Weathering the pandemic’s surreal early seasons”
Published by Scribe
September 12, 2020
Stores had reopened. Restaurants served diners indoors. My heart clanged like an old-fashioned smoke alarm, red paint chipping away to raw steel. Look at them, lounging unmasked, eating! Some of the chests in there hid lungs that were secretly on fire with virus, alveoli glowing and crackling like embers. I imagined smoke pluming from their nostrils and eddying around nearby faces. The longer they stayed, the thicker their smog would collect overhead, dark as charcoal. Each breath pulled it into another body like sparks into tinder. How could they not see it, smell it, feel its sting on their skin? […]

“It’s Just Us Down Here: And we hold each other’s lives in our hands” Published by Indelible Ink September 17, 2020When acres of burnt wood and blowing dust smear out the sun, and the greens and reds pop and go black, navigating is no longer automatic. Now it’s up to us, every individual one of us, to stop… to wait… to watch each other. To trust each other. We hold each other’s lives in our hands each time we hit the gas or swerve. I hold your life. And you hold mine. […] — “It’s Just Us Down Here: And we hold each other’s lives in our hands”
Published by Indelible Ink
September 17, 2020
When acres of burnt wood and blowing dust smear out the sun, and the greens and reds pop and go black, navigating is no longer automatic. Now it’s up to us, every individual one of us, to stop… to wait… to watch each other. To trust each other. We hold each other’s lives in our hands each time we hit the gas or swerve. I hold your life. And you hold mine. […]

“Blowing Smoke: To hold death one breath at a time” Published by Scribe September 21, 2020Deep inhale, as if, these toxins, I just love pulling them into my flesh. Just crave that pain, that sting and sear, Just need it, you know? Just need to breathe in some death. Just need to contain it within me As if I am the larger one. As if my body can hold death one breath at a time. […] — “Blowing Smoke: To hold death one breath at a time”
Published by Scribe
September 21, 2020
Deep inhale, as if, these toxins, I just love pulling them into my flesh.
Just crave that pain, that sting and sear,
Just need it, you know?
Just need to breathe in some death.
Just need to contain it within me
As if I am the larger one.
As if my body can hold death one breath at a time. […]

“Is It Weird That I Love My Mask? Hiding my face is unexpectedly humanizing“ Published by Fearless She Wrote September 30, 2020Humans need each other. We need to show our bodily emotions and read each other’s facial cues to have meaningful relationships. Deprived of such connection, we grow lonely and dysfunctional.I can understand if my newfound love of “hiding behind a mask” sounds depressingly antisocial to some people.But here’s the thing. […] — “Is It Weird That I Love My Mask? Hiding my face is unexpectedly humanizing“
Published by Fearless She Wrote
September 30, 2020
Humans need each other. We need to show our bodily emotions and read each other’s facial cues to have meaningful relationships. Deprived of such connection, we grow lonely and dysfunctional.
I can understand if my newfound love of “hiding behind a mask” sounds depressingly antisocial to some people.
But here’s the thing. […]

The politics of it all

“I Wish ‘Contagion’ Had Come True: It was written as a warning. Now it reads as optimistic” Published by Indelible Ink September 24, 2020Back in March, I marveled at the “uncanny” similarities between the movie and the reality. Now, I marvel at the differences.This administration’s criminally negligent behavior defies even a Hollywood-grade imagination. As screenwriter Burns lamented in his Post interview back in April, “I never contemplated a federal response that was so ignorant, misguided and full of dangerous information.” […] — “I Wish ‘Contagion’ Had Come True: It was written as a warning. Now it reads as optimistic”
Published by Indelible Ink
September 24, 2020
Back in March, I marveled at the “uncanny” similarities between the movie and the reality. Now, I marvel at the differences.
This administration’s criminally negligent behavior defies even a Hollywood-grade imagination. As screenwriter Burns lamented in his Post interview back in April, “I never contemplated a federal response that was so ignorant, misguided and full of dangerous information.” […]

“A Drawing a Day: Democracy Edition” Self-published art project A month of campaign art, October 1 - November 2, 2020 — “A Drawing a Day: Democracy Edition”
Self-published art project
A month of campaign art, October 1 - November 2, 2020

“Valentines and Chess Moves: Working through the final weeks of this election” Published by Indelible Ink October 13, 2020Now is the time to throw all our support behind Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, to be sure they get as many votes as possible.Not because electing Biden will be the end of our work, but because it will be the beginning. Electing Biden will be the first step on a long, arduous path of recovery and eventual progress. […] — “Valentines and Chess Moves: Working through the final weeks of this election”
Published by Indelible Ink
October 13, 2020
Now is the time to throw all our support behind Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, to be sure they get as many votes as possible.
Not because electing Biden will be the end of our work, but because it will be the beginning. Electing Biden will be the first step on a long, arduous path of recovery and eventual progress. […]

“The Neighborhood Trumpkin: Clinging to rot is, frankly, embarrassing — but most signs point to better times ahead” Published by Indelible Ink November 11, 2020It was there for my nerve-jangled walk on Election Day.Then came Wednesday, November 4…Thursday…The days were getting shorter, but with critical swing states still counting ballots, that first week in November felt impossibly long.It wasn’t until Friday that I noticed the Trumpkin was starting to decay.I shouldn’t have been surprised. This is what every jack-o’-lantern does, on every porch, every year, as the fading daylight withers them and nights freeze their flesh. They soften. Their skin curls and they collapse in on themselves. Soon enough, the toothy grins of Halloween go gummy, in every sense.Why was I surprised? […] — “The Neighborhood Trumpkin: Clinging to rot is, frankly, embarrassing — but most signs point to better times ahead”
Published by Indelible Ink
November 11, 2020
It was there for my nerve-jangled walk on Election Day.
Then came Wednesday, November 4…
Thursday…
The days were getting shorter, but with critical swing states still counting ballots, that first week in November felt impossibly long.
It wasn’t until Friday that I noticed the Trumpkin was starting to decay.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. This is what every jack-o’-lantern does, on every porch, every year, as the fading daylight withers them and nights freeze their flesh. They soften. Their skin curls and they collapse in on themselves. Soon enough, the toothy grins of Halloween go gummy, in every sense.
Why was I surprised? […]

A year of grief and hope

“Glimmers of Joy: A comic about cake” Published by Human Parts October 2, 2020The following unfolded after about six months of work-from-home pandemic isolation. […] — “Glimmers of Joy: A comic about cake”
Published by Human Parts
October 2, 2020
The following unfolded after about six months of work-from-home pandemic isolation. […]

“The Scent of Thanksgiving: Finding gratitude when we’re apart this holiday season” Published by Indelible Ink November 20, 2020It took the threat of an airborne virus for me to realize that I actually crave that level of connection. Not just touch, not just presence, but scent itself.But if we’re close enough — enclosed enough — to smell the same buttery green beans and blueberry pie (let alone each other), then we are sharing the same cloud of not just fragrance but potential infection. That is a risk I refuse to take, for everyone’s sake. […] — “The Scent of Thanksgiving: Finding gratitude when we’re apart this holiday season”
Published by Indelible Ink
November 20, 2020
It took the threat of an airborne virus for me to realize that I actually crave that level of connection. Not just touch, not just presence, but scent itself.
But if we’re close enough — enclosed enough — to smell the same buttery green beans and blueberry pie (let alone each other), then we are sharing the same cloud of not just fragrance but potential infection. That is a risk I refuse to take, for everyone’s sake. […]

“I was given the AstraZeneca vaccine for Covid-19. I’m grateful and I’m worried” Published by The Independent UK December 3, 2020The point of signing my consent wasn’t to be rewarded with guaranteed immunity. It was to offer my body as one of thousands of data points, so that, collectively, we can work toward securing the best possible vaccination regimen. I knew from the start that I might not get any vaccine at all, let alone a good one. I just hope that I can help the rest of humanity secure itself against this pandemic and save as many lives as we can along the way.My gratitude goes to the researchers at AstraZeneca who have developed this vaccine and are working to test it around the world — asterisks and all. […] — “I was given the AstraZeneca vaccine for Covid-19. I’m grateful and I’m worried”
Published by The Independent UK
December 3, 2020
The point of signing my consent wasn’t to be rewarded with guaranteed immunity. It was to offer my body as one of thousands of data points, so that, collectively, we can work toward securing the best possible vaccination regimen. I knew from the start that I might not get any vaccine at all, let alone a good one. I just hope that I can help the rest of humanity secure itself against this pandemic and save as many lives as we can along the way.
My gratitude goes to the researchers at AstraZeneca who have developed this vaccine and are working to test it around the world — asterisks and all. […]

“Pixels in the Dark: Fathoming death from a distance” Published by Scribe December 12, 2020I could see stars, though not many. Mars shone clearly as the brightest point of light. I watched it float in silence while the dogs scrabbled around in the dark, digging at the dirt, snuffling through dry leaves.It looked like a pixel on a screen.This is how the whole outside world starts to look after nine months of interacting with it remotely. Your long-lost long-distance loved ones no longer feel like warm bodies. They’ve become information: data, text, distant points of light. […] — “Pixels in the Dark: Fathoming death from a distance”
Published by Scribe
December 12, 2020
I could see stars, though not many. Mars shone clearly as the brightest point of light. I watched it float in silence while the dogs scrabbled around in the dark, digging at the dirt, snuffling through dry leaves.
It looked like a pixel on a screen.
This is how the whole outside world starts to look after nine months of interacting with it remotely. Your long-lost long-distance loved ones no longer feel like warm bodies. They’ve become information: data, text, distant points of light. […]