Life has a strange suspended quality now, and the days feel repetitive and surreal. I'm lucky to be isolating with plenty of space, and not to be on the front lines of risk (though grateful to everyone who is). Even so it takes conscious effort to remain optimistic. I thought, what if each day there was one thing I never got tired of? Well, no matter how many times I move through essentially the same day, I will never stop looking forward to that first taste of my morning coffee. It's a small instance of gratitude that makes me want to look ahead to other moments of happiness.
Coffee, oil paint on linen, 8”x8”, private collection, Brooklyn NY