I had already been living with family since 2018 after making the switch from full-time employment and part time PhD studies, to full-time artist. Workplace bullying, racism, and sexual harassment had burnt me out. I had completed an artist residency at Nemacolin resort in Pennsylvania in 2019 that felt more like a scam and I was feeling down. By the time 2020 COVID-19 lockdown kicked in, I wasn’t too phased. Staying home, six feet of distance, and wearing a mask saved me from the sexual harassment and racism I would otherwise endure on a near daily basis.
As a full-time artist for five years now, COVID-19 impacted three of those years making for a very unique situation. Because I did not use lockdown to shamelessly promote myself on social media, I did not grow a cult following or amass millions of dollars like many others. Lockdown created a huge lag in my upward mobility and destroyed my art biz which relied on public gigs.
Financially, lockdown was devastating. My accountant and her secretary forgot to do my taxes in 2019, so by 2020 I had to file two years worth of taxes and the IRS was backed up. I did not receive a stimulus check, or my tax returns, and I was denied all forms of small business assistance. It was a saga getting my taxes filed and my tax returns paid out while dealing with rude, incompetent people and poorly run systems and procedures. I finally received a stimulus check over a year after lockdown.
Artistically, I was experimenting after my Nemacolin scam left me unable to draw for nearly three years from the emotional wreckage. I spent the solitude of quarantine making a series of quilts and wall hangings from old clothing and bedsheets with hand dyed muslin. They were made to look like windows as I looked out the window from inside for a year. They are a departure from my typical color palette and subject matter which is a perfect reflection of the time.
In every aspect of life, I had fallen thru the cracks and so many people kicked me while I was down. I started getting more vocal on social media about activism in the arts as I saw the 2020 protests unfold. I used lockdown as a time to research lawsuits as legal activism as I filed my first pro se lawsuit fighting against the racism I experienced in the arts. All the while, my family became increasingly toxic; void of any boundaries or respect. As more people moved back home for quarantine, I had to move out once lockdown and the Texas freeze of 2021 were over. This home also had a mold and mildew issues which was making me sick with deep coughing fits that prevented me from breathing properly.
I took a loan out against my car and went to an artist residency in rural Pennsylvania, then moved to Tulsa, OK because it was being marketed as a millennial boom town. My car was repossessed due to a technical error by the title loan company and badly damage in the tow. I worked with insurance and corporate to get it repaired and returned to me which was emotionally draining.
In Tulsa, I lived with relatives, started working full-time again, bought a new car, and opened an art studio thinking my next chapter had begun. But, this move was short lived because Tulsa is a very corrupt city and that one year set me back further than lockdown. In addition, my health was out of whack. I was frequently sick with COVID symptoms after getting vaccinated as my body built up an immunity.
After I moved back to Texas in 2022, I was in a car accident when a van ran a red light and totaled my vehicle leaving me with lingering neck, shoulder, and spine issues. For a year, I was back living in the same suffocating household I tried to flee with my possessions in storage. Bouts of heavy sobbing and insomnia were frequent and my hair had been falling out since the year prior. I would take walks everyday or sit on the curb. I started collecting empty boxes from the nearby grocery store to make art. The cardboard was used to create a series of imagined route 66 vintage signs to remind me of the scenic drives between Texas and Tulsa. This process kept me feeling occupied and forward moving. But, things escalated so badly at home, that I filed for a restraining order against one of my relatives and moved house once more.
Today, I am hopeful because I know who I can trust and who kicked me while I was down. I learned that family is chosen and I can select the members of my life-team while benching others. I’m writing out my COVID-19 story because I want to fully purge if from my mind and body so that I can move on. My blog is my art diary and I’d rather leave this rough patch of my life here than in my dreams when I try to sleep. I hope it was helpful to others who may have felt the world has been caving in on them for the last few years. It was a struggle to survive personal financial destitution, family toxicity, and health issues while grappling with a national pandemic and civil unrest. I did not think I would make it this far alive. Now, that I’ve buried the past in a blog post, I can fully embrace the present and future.
Have a Pleasant Day!
-Rae
