Stories of Wisdom from Bodies in Separation (SWaBS):
Archiving the Coronavirus Pandemic Through the Lens of Humanities
Six Digital Illustrations
by Moira Villiard
Midpandemic Spring
This is one of a series of six digital illustrations by the artist Moira Villiard. In this first illustration, titled “Midpandemic Spring”, Moira captures the view from her downtown Duluth studio window showing the early spring green of new grass and leaves on the trees across the wide grey street from her studio. On the window are the words, “It just ? was a… [midpandemic] spring”. The following are the artist’s own words which accompany this illustration. “This piece is part of a series of personal illustrations exploring moments during, before, and after the pandemic that stood out to me. This piece references the moment during the lockdown in which I noticed the weather had changed without my awareness of the change. In Northern Minnesota, I think it’s pretty common to be in tune with the changing of the seasons, especially when the weather shifts from winter to spring/summer. The winter is so long that the first few warm days of spring are immediately recognized, and are days where it seems like everybody leaves work early if they can and tries to catch the return of sunshine and temperatures above freezing by being outside, if only for a few moments. This year, in 2020, it was the first time in recent memory where I didn’t take part in that sort of spring awakening. The early pandemic lockdowns all seemed to take place in the midst of seasonal changes, and ultimately I didn’t notice any of the signs of spring while inside my apartment in downtown Duluth. I was on a deep cleaning spree, busy painting my office to look like Starbucks (where I usually did my work). At some point I remember looking out my window, though, and wondering how long the grass had been growing … when did the leaves return? I had somehow missed the snow falling off the rooftops and water rushing down the gutters from melted ice. All of the movement of water in the stillness of sunlight … the mud and slush … the wintertime litter pulling loose and resurfacing in piles of debris, the occasional needle, single winter gloves, empty miniature bottles of Fireball whiskey, cigarette butts, and deflated birthday balloons. I missed 100% of that. This illustration is that moment … looking outside my window and seeing the patchy but thriving grass and the trees covering up the view of all the homes on the Hillside that I’d gotten accustomed to seeing. In this rare moment, I, a lifelong Northern Minnesotan, had actually missed the transition between winter and spring. Society seemed to be putting on the breaks but nature carried on.
#umduluthcovid19archives #pandemicart #digitalillustration #springart #covid19art #historicalart #artinthepresentmoment #digital #digitalpainting”
Thriving, I Guess
This is one of a series of six digital illustrations by the artist Moira Villiard. In this second illustration, titled “Thriving, I Guess”, we see a houseplant in a white pot with vibrant green leaves in front of a yellow and ochre background. On the purple surface where the plant sits are the words, “At least somebody is thriving”. The following are the artist’s own words which accompany this illustration. “I’m not proud of the number of houseplants that have died in my apartment (and yes, I’m aware of how basic that sounds). The sunlight really only reaches my side of the building in the morning, and only in a room where two sun-worshipping distant cousins of tigers roam freely (yeah, they’re cats). I’ve gotten by in my apartment living largely in the presence of artificial plants and plant motifs, green Venetian blinds, a collection of cheap cotton tapestries with leaf print designs pinned to my 15’+ foot studio ceilings, etc. In the hopes of appropriating the hipster aesthetic, I painted one of the small rooms in my home a matcha latte green and converted it to a better office space, in preparation for all the work I’d be doing at home during the pandemic. Shortly after, I ended up suffering a severe allergic reaction (to the paint maybe?) that mimicked COVID-19 in symptoms, but with the addition of turning my face to a pink, peeling sort of leather consistency. A lot of humans during the pandemic have cited a return to nature in their time of quarantine … a return to gardening, indigenous plant foraging, landscaping, succulent hoarding, and/or subsistence farming of some sort. While I feel my downtown art studio home is a luxurious penthouse serving most of my needs, it’s definitely been at the expense of removing myself from nature. There was a period of quiet early on in the lockdowns, but I look out the window and more people than ever are walking around in the streets. To me that screams more opportunities for street harassment that I don’t want to deal with. If I experience nature at this point in my life, I usually have to drive there and it’s usually with a companion. Despite all that, this piece is really dedicated to my longest surviving houseplant yet, a Bonsai that has nearly doubled in size since I’ve been home almost 24/7 to ensure its survival. Congratulations to the only houseplant I have neither named, nor killed. You’ve made me less basic and less of a failure at something, I guess. Maybe just the latter, lol. This piece is part of a series of personal illustrations exploring moments during, before, and after the pandemic that stood out to me. #umduluthcovid19archives #pandemicart #artjournal #pandemicartjournal #pandemicjournalart #pandemicjournal #digitalillustration #springart #covid19art #historicalart #artinthepresentmoment #digital #digitalpainting“
UNReliable Connections
This is one of a series of six digital illustrations by the artist Moira Villiard. In this third illustration, titled “UNReliable Connections”, in both deep and bright hues, Moira and three of her close friends are all seen in a similar pose, with the back of one hand by their mouth as if telling a secret. In the illustration there are words above their heads that say, “Brought to you by… Reliable connections.” The following are the artist’s own words which accompany this illustration. “We’re missing one person in this image because he missed the call, but the illustration is based off of a screenshot I took of my college friends and I on one of our regularly scheduled video chats. Our friend group has existed at a distance for a few years now officially since all of us graduated and went on to live in different parts of the world. We had always maintained communication on phone calls and group chats, but following the pandemic we decided to start connecting via the app Discord and to start communicating via video. Occasionally we’ll play the popular Jackbox Games suites, but for the most part, it’s our moment to check in as the “chosen family” we’ve become. It seems that, no matter where in the world you are, internet connectivity has been a consistent issue of our overwhelmingly online pandemic lifestyles in 2020. This illustration captures a “game” we would play when any one of us loses connection to the chat. Typically, the screen freezes for that person (sometimes with voice continuing) and we pause our conversation to mimic the pose of the person having internet issues. Then, one of us with an internet connection snaps a screenshot of all of us copying the person whose screen is frozen, and it ends up looking like a coordinated photo. I’m really not sure why we started doing this but it’s one way we’ve been able to make entertainment out of something that on any other call would be an annoyance. This piece is part of a series of personal illustrations exploring moments during, before, and after the pandemic that stood out to me.
#umduluthcovid19archives #pandemicart #artjournal #pandemicartjournal #pandemicjournalart #pandemicjournal #digitalillustration #springart #covid19art #historicalart #artinthepresentmoment #digital #digitalpainting”
The First of Many Lasts
This is one of a series of six digital illustrations by the artist Moira Villiard. In this forth illustration, titled “The First of Many Lasts”, we see a dance floor in Minneapolis with people dancing together, the light is low and the room is filled with pinks and blues, musicians are in the forefront playing music and singing for the dancers. On the dance floor are the words, “The first of many lasts. –Minneapolis, MN March 2020”. The following are the artist’s own words which accompany this illustration. “Throughout 2019 I spent one weekend in the Twin Cities every month and that became sort of like a mini-vacation from me. I’d try new restaurants and visit SoulBowl at least once on the way home. I would stay at a hotel or with one of my best friends when she had room and we would meet up and try our best to have a good time partying it up in downtown Minneapolis. The “club” scene in Duluth could get pretty monotonous, and surprisingly Minneapolis was hit or miss as well, but at least we could wander around looking for a better spot when we were there. The best nights were those when we’d stumble upon events featuring DJ Calvin that had the energy and music we both enjoyed. One of my last vacation-y trips to the cities was back in the beginning of March 2020. I was about a month into my newfound life as a freelance artist with an exciting year ahead of me, and also recovering from a rough personal start to the year. I didn’t know that our last night out would be just that … the last. As I mentioned, it was my last trip to the cities for fun, but it was also the last time I would see my best friend in person before she moved out of state to be closer with her family during the pandemic. It’s the last time I went dancing and the last time I was immersed in live music. I decided to illustrate a scene from that night. We’d spent some time playing cards and drinking a little at my friend’s apartment, then decided to walk a half hour to check out the downtown nightlife. As soon as we reached our usual stretch of clubs, she realized she’d forgotten her ID. Commence a night of drunken confidence and somehow managing to get into all the clubs for free and without even going through the body scanners, and a few other wildly memorable and comedic moments. Here we’d made it upstairs to a live music event with some Latino performers playing music with a surprisingly folksy vibe. It’s funny because even on nights when the music wasn’t that good, my friend and I always reached a point in the evening where we were in euphoria. Sometimes that involved tequila shots, and sometimes it was just the energy of a good song playing and being able to move and dance and not feel anything outside of the present moment. I always reflect on those specific moments because it was truly magic and it’s a great reminder for me that there’s experiences like that which make life really worth living, for me anyway. Finding that next pure, unconditional euphoria. This piece is part of a series of personal illustrations exploring moments during, before, and after the pandemic that stood out to me.
#umduluthcovid19archives #pandemicart #artjournal #pandemicartjournal #pandemicjournalart #pandemicjournal #digitalillustration #springart #covid19art #historicalart #artinthepresentmoment #digital #digitalpainting”
The Big Small World
This is one of a series of six digital illustrations by the artist Moira Villiard. In this fifth illustration, titled “The Big Small World”, we see the silhouette of a figure in a kitchen squatting down to greet a bright pink and bright blue cat. In the forefront of the image is presumably the artist’s foot. On the fridge are the words, “The big small world”. The following are the artist’s own words which accompany this illustration. “The world became both bigger and smaller in some ways during the last few months of the pandemic. For me, this idea manifested in getting accepted into a global fellowship for the 2020 Salzburg Fellowship, which, instead of involving a once in a lifetime trip to Austria, took place over the course of an intensive two week series of Zoom discussions and workshops. Throughout the overall experience, I kept reflecting on how small this made the world feel - I could be in the USA right at this moment and on the other side of the world, a time zone that’s different by 12 hours, someone could be partaking in the same sorts of advocacy around space, representation, left vs. right wing rhetoric, etc. as me. And then, logging off those early morning global conversations and meditations, I log off Zoom briefly for a break, only to get right back on for my work as a freelancer. With the pandemic, my life went from speaking in person in public spaces to speaking in a different sort of public space, an online realm that takes place physically all in one place, yet somehow is triply exhausting from life as I knew it. And then in the evening, generally, my boyfriend would come home from work at the hospital. And the two cats would be excited because they spent the whole day with me, making both invited and uninvited appearances on all of my calls. They’re excited because he’s not lactose intolerant, and when he’s home they know they’re getting a splash of milk as a treat. They’re all his. And suddenly, stepping away from the screens momentarily, my world is just this apartment. It’s not Manila, it’s not Nairobi or Malta. Just for the moment, it’s here. This piece is part of a series of personal illustrations exploring moments during, before, and after the pandemic that stood out to me.
#umduluthcovid19archives @salzburgglobal #yci2020 #pandemicart #artjournal #pandemicartjournal #pandemicjournalart #pandemicjournal #digitalillustration #springart #covid19art #historicalart #artinthepresentmoment #digital #digitalpainting”
On The Side
This is one of a series of six digital illustrations by the artist Moira Villiard. In this sixth illustration, titled “On The Side…”, we see a take out box containing fried rice and a spoon next to a baggie with blue hand sewn face masks inside all on top of a bright red background. On one flap of the take out box are the words, “On the side…”. The following are the artist’s own words which accompany this illustration. “My last piece for now in this series is dedicated to food. Food played a major role in our lives during the pandemic. For some of us, we gained more access to it, and for others, the insecurity became even more real. Personally, I spend a lot of time trying to recreate recipes that I’ve tried at restaurants, and the early part of the pandemic was spent really diving deeper into the relaxation that came with cooking. Like many who could afford it, I also began ordering a lot more takeout, out of support for local business but also in an attempt to broaden my palate and figure out more ways to sustain myself in this stay-at-home twilight zone. This particular illustration is of one of my first takeout meals during the pandemic. I ordered my favorite fried rice from Thai by Thai, which is one of the only Thai restaurants in Duluth and which has the very best rice of any place north of the Twin Cities, in my opinion. The owners very early on were concerned about the virus and handed out lovely handmade face masks to customers who picked up takeout. I find it interesting to note that, just before this point in time in April 2020, it seemed like folks who tuned into “alternative news” / “alt right media” were more concerned about people not wearing face masks because, in the usual fashion, alternative media was reporting the opposite of what the mainstream media had to say. Thus, the “China virus” was a threat only until President Trump said otherwise, the media switched, and what a bizarre rest of the year we’ve had. This piece is part of a series of personal illustrations exploring moments during, before, and after the pandemic that stood out to me.
#pandemicart #artjournal #pandemicartjournal #pandemicjournalart #pandemicjournal #digitalillustration #springart #covid19art #historicalart #artinthepresentmoment #digital #digitalpainting”
Stories of Wisdom from Bodies in Separation (SWaBS): Archiving the Coronavirus Pandemic Through the Lens of Humanities has been made possible by a major grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities: Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act.
Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this project, do not necessarily represent those of the National Endowment for the Humanities.
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