After getting vaccinated, I had curbed my (maybe unhealthy) fascination with my countys’ Department of Health data. And a handful of weeks ago? I had a skip-happy-hand-in-hand-with-the-CDC moment when I stopped for street corn, realized I had left the house without a mask, aaaand realized it was safe to pop in for my takeaway treat…

My paintings are my diary. And my diary is part therapy, part meditation, part practice in gratitude. Far less Pollyanna and far more survivalist, this brand of gratitude is simply the art of drawing attention to something lovely—an especially useful practice when immersed in an experience that is anything but. The pandemic experience lends itself…