One of the things I’ve noticed about this period of quarantine is that it has tended to compel me to look backwards. It has been so easy to fall into a frame of mind in which the things one is missing are uppermost in the mind. Plans for the future, such as holidays or theatre visits, are being cancelled left, right and centre. Exhibitions into which I have been planning to enter work have been abandoned for this year. We measure the impact of the present, quite naturally I suppose, in relation to the past. Things ain’t what they used to be. There is nothing much to which we could look forward.
Walking around the garden tonight I began to realise that I don’t have to think in that way. The first black-currant fruits are beginning to form. The potatoes are finally poking their leaves above the soil. I planted out the courgettes this morning. The garden is full of the future at the moment. I’ll try to hang onto that.
I have noticed also that we tend to frame our current social life entirely in terms of loss. Of course, I can see the reason for that, as the electronic exchanges to which we are often reduced are not a substitute for face-to-face meeting. This morning, however, I found that I was compelled to qualify that view. I take part in a Zoom exchange in the mornings with a group of folk from the church. As we were talking I was aware suddenly that there was a level of openness, frankness and self-revelation I have never experienced in that context before. This became particularly noticeable when one young woman decided to express her opinion about an issue, adding that she would not normally say these things in front of her parents, who are also members of the group. Somehow it seems that the indirect nature of our communication actually permitted us to set aside the inhibitions that direct, face-to-face communication might have made necessary. If it is possible for us to sustain that kind of honesty then the group will be enormously richer for it. Our situation will not be all loss.
The same does seem to be true of my art practice. Over and over again I have lectured myself about the value of drawing as a regular part of my routine. Somehow that never seemed to happen. Now that I have absolutely no exhibition commitments in view before November, and I have run out to ideas for finished compositions, I am compelled to do some drawing almost every day. It remains to be seen whether I will be able to sustain this achievement into the post-virus future, but the benefit will persist, of that I’m sure, if a promise can become a habit.
Yes. OK. All kinds of things are either inconvenient, or difficult, or sometimes even painful, about the present situation. Even so, after today I am going to try to get into the habit of spending at least some of the time looking forward.