Pandemic House Cleaning

AKA Am I really an artist or is impostor syndrome lurking behind the curtains again

I’m trying to organize my home studio space. It’s not working, I have been doing this for months. I actually need two studio space. One for storage and one for working. Also working against me is the need for a writing space, a printmaking space, a painting space, and a textile and mixed media space. On top of this I am grappling with the collapse of my social world. Last year I called my mother every night, went on Zoom meetings, wrote long texts to my family and friends, tiled a kitchen backsplash, painted a bunch of rooms, knitted, sewed, filled my house and yard with plants. What I didn’t finish was my novel. The story still percolates in my mind. I have even dreamed about my characters and storyline, even came up with better scenes but the idea of spending hours in front of the computer filled me with dread. Zoom meetings began to stress me. I couldn’t get through emails. I began to do everything I could think of to avoid sitting at the computer. I read on my phone, scrolled through some of my emails, checked in Instagram and Twitter, then did everything I could to be offline. Gardened. Cooked. Sorted beads and yarn. Embroidered sugar skulls. Knitted a small coral reef. Built furniture. Sometimes it feels like procrastination, sometimes like preserving my sanity.

It’s funny how all those activities kept me going when it became clear our world has changed since my last post in February 2020.

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