Saturday. Kids and dad out to lunch. Finished cleaning and organizing. Four walls covered with paint marks, paintings, surround me. My studio floor covered with paint, scraps, paint containers, my sink plugged up, yellow, dirty, water sits in it as it slowly drains.

I worked on painting, collage, and drawing on little pieces of watercolor paper. I only have seven days left to work on this project. But I think I’ve broke through any, or most barriers in my mind about getting in my studio everyday.

Through the chaos of homeschooling, motherhood, domesticity and depression, during a pandemic, I’ve found a new place to exist. It’s not where I was a month ago, it’s not where I was in March, it’s a fresh new path of constant possibilities, pandemic or not.