From winter to spring with coronavirus (Rick Love)

From winter to spring with coronavirus: death and rejuvenation.

As the Coronavirus was gaining steam in Italy in early March, I kept a keen eye on the outbreak. There was an upcoming trip with thirteen university students to Perugia that was accelerating into a big question mark. Right before heading out on spring break, my Dean joked to me that “in April we might all be teaching from home.” I chuckled at the thought, and joked back that at least faculty won’t complain about parking.

Diving head on into spring break and unaware of the fate about to hit the world, I needed to scratch my wanderlust itch and get my art fix. I headed out for spring break. First NYC and a quick visit to the Met and a then good visit with my brother. I found myself touching everything with my sleeve rather than my hand, which was impossible on the subway. Then I bounced San Francisco and Marin for some work and a few rides up Mt. Tamplais and some awesome dinners out with good friends. Little did I know I was surfing the COVID 19 wave. Once home, everyone jokingly asked if people were wearing masks on the plane. I only saw one.

The jovial spirit ended when I received a text from a colleague: “check your email, there is very sad news”. There was an email from the president of the university saying my dean had unexpectedly passed away. I still don’t believe it. “WHAT?” Has been the resounding response. Because of social distancing there has been no opportunity to walk past his empty office or pick up my office phone and dial his extension.

He was 44. In his last email to us department chairs, he stated he was “going to take a break from COVID 19 and head home to read a novel.” When your boss dies (and is a good boss to boot) the sucking sound from the void is palpable. He didn’t die from the coronavirus but from major heart failure. Nonetheless we his faithful subordinates and his family are victims of a major loss. Sheltering in place meant no funeral. No get together with colleagues. No consoling visit with his wife and two kids at the wake. Mourning was left to emails and social media posts, both of which are horrible surrogates, to say the least.

Sequestered to my house or my studio, grateful to have both, I set to work making art. Knowing that much of the great art made in Europe was made under much more difficult circumstances, i.e., the Plague. I doubled down on Art. Art is a proper long-term investment.

These three tape art pieces are the direct result. The responses and quotes from passersby say it all: Art Matters.

“Wow”

“I love your tape art”

“Fantastic”

“I am coming back tonight to see it at night!”

And my favorite comments, because they tell me I am on the right track…are the grumpy, discontent, confused ones…. ”What’s that?” “Where did you get that?” My response…”it’s tape.” “What?” “I am drawing trees in tape.” “It’s just TAPE?” For some reason my disgruntled noticers want it to be more than tape. That they stopped and asked “What is that?” is a sign it’s working. They don’t need to understand, I understand what I’m doing, and in some mysterious way their attitude reinforces my understanding that art is generative, life giving and joyous.