“Soliloquy” by Kat Green

 

April 2nd - May 3rd

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Gallery Hours: Monday - Saturday 10am - 6pm, Sunday 11am - 5pm

 

‘Soliloquy’ explores my year in lockdown.

 

A year of personal and professional upheaval. 

A year of missing family. 

A year of trying to maintain contact with the outside world as we sat alone in our bunkers and tried to grapple with how the world was changing in real time.  

In that time we became the proverbial fish in a fish bowl and we knew we didn’t like it in there, and there was no escape.

 

I’m typically a solitary creature who works alone, with very little input from the outside world, so it struck me as odd that this time of lockdown has been so difficult for me. Working from home long before working from home was cool, I had adapted to it quite nicely, but it was my own plan and at my own pace. Leave any time I want. Return any time. 

 

In the beginning weeks of the lockdown, it seemed we were all obsessed with news and trying to source out what was true or accurate news despite the rumor mills working overtime. It made things such as artistic pursuits seem frivolous when juxtaposed with the jarring reality of a very scary situation we found ourselves in. 

 

Everything came to a screeching halt, and the resulting whiplash made things so very real. 

 

The other thing which deeply affected me – and the other ‘planners’ like myself in this world – was the inability to schedule ANYTHING. We quickly realized that if we did make even the smallest of plans, they would likely be canceled. As someone who strives on planning ahead and figuring out the logistics of things, this was extremely debilitating. 

 

I had become frozen in place. 

 

Half the fun of doing something, whether a vacation or a work project, is in the planning and aspect of looking forward to seeing it through to completion. As a dear friend once said to me: “All the fun’s in the gettin’ there.” When ‘making plans’ is removed from our lives, we got stuck in a strange and scary state of limbo. 

 

So it took some deep digging to find motivation to create again.
 

I do feel like hope is on the horizon, and very soon we will be able to gather again. To hug again. To share in person, again. We can crawl out of our holes and rebuild our lives. 

 

I do think, however, life on this big blue marble is forever changed.