State of the Art Industry in the Time of Coronavirus

How artists, galleries, and art fairs are weathering the storm of the global pandemic.

A dark cloud has loomed over New York’s Chelsea neighborhood. It’s a Sunday afternoon, and the rainfall and sporadic gusts of wind have made the environment cold, damp, and eerie. There’s hardly anyone in sight, save for two police officers at the corner of 22nd Street between 10th and 11th Avenues, a man clutching his parka shakily while walking his dog, and an eager delivery man pedaling feverishly on his bicycle. All are wearing face masks; all are trying their best to deal with the circumstances.

It’s a grim scene that concisely depicts the state of the contemporary art industry, which takes up a lot of square footage in Chelsea. Here, some of the biggest galleries in the world have shut their doors, following federal and local mandates to padlock nonessential businesses and social distance as a result of the coronavirus outbreak. The large, clear windows that let viewers peer into their expansive spaces—normally lined with vibrant wall paintings or imposing installations, wooing passersby—are now boarded or covered by metal gates. And there are signs outside the entrances that express how they are, for the foreseeable future, closed, emphasizing their compliance with guidelines so as to flatten the curve of the spread.

New York—with more than 300,000 cases and more than 19,000 confirmed deaths—is the hardest-hit state in the nation. And this is not counting the staggering unemployment rates, dwindling supply of personal protective equipment (PPE), and overall financial and mental stability of citizens. Many galleries and art organizations that are based in the city and beyond had to quickly evaluate how best to navigate this trying time, figuring out a right course of action that will benefit both their firms and the artists they represent. Because however much art is an expression of creativity, an imaginative view of reality through an individual standpoint, it is unequivocally a business that has seriously been affected by COVID-19.

Art & Commerce

The role of an artist is to express themselves and, in turn, a certain truth about their society in their work. The contemporary art industry is, in large part, built on selling this ideology: that art is not decoration, but a virtual chasm that needs to be entered and explored. But with a lockdown in place, the conventional process of communicating an artist’s vision and enticing collectors, institutions, and gallery-goers to buy into it—both figuratively and literally—has been effectively stunted.

“Art does, and always will, offer insights into who we are and what we are experiencing, as individuals and as a society as a whole,” says Maureen Bray, executive director of the Art Dealers Association of America, which represents more than 180 galleries in the United States. “Art is equal parts clarion call and safe haven, and we need both at the moment.”

But art is also an industry that needs to make money, and with the world effectively at a standstill, gallerists, dealers, and the artists they represent are essentially operating without one of their greatest sales tools: human connection.

“The principal effect, of course, is not being able to be present physically in front of a piece of work,” says artist Angel Otero. “Visiting museums, galleries, and having studio visits with artists and interacting with artwork in a personal way is integral to the industry, especially during traumatic moments. And yet, right now, we are living in a time when none of this is possible. The physicality of art is not accessible.”

Indeed, the majority of interactions that artists have with curators, journalists, dealers, and prospective buyers extends beyond the walls of those boarded galleries in Chelsea. These meet-and-greets take place at biennials, galas, and art fairs, which are housed in sweeping venues that normally generate a hefty amount of foot traffic—and, by extension, income. Since the outbreak, however, expositions, including Frieze New York, editions of Art Basel, and The European Fine Art Fair (TEFAF), have been effectively moved or taken off the calendar, leaving all the lucrative deals that are made at these events by the wayside.

“This is especially difficult, because so much of the art experience is intimate and in person,” says artist Leo Villareal. “One needs to be present with the work, and many of the relationships in the art world have a social aspect.”

Artist Ramiro Gomez witnessed the abrupt shift from hobnobbing with art bigwigs that could enhance his career exponentially to almost complete isolation in his Los Angeles home. In late February, he attended the opening of the Art Dealers Association of America Art Show, where schmoozing is standard. Just a week later, he recalled hearing news about how “elbow bumps and hand sanitizer became the norm.” Now, such tony events, which are essential in the art industry, have been canceled or brought online, causing a chain reaction that has far greater consequences than what is seen on the surface.

“The art industry is obviously not an isolated industry,” explains Rachel Lehmann, cofounder of Lehmann Maupin Gallery. “It relies on the ability of the public to interact with the expressions of the artists. As such, the first obvious element that has disappeared is being able physically to look at art and engage with it. The face-to-face interaction, as in art fairs, is postponed. Social events such as museum openings or gallery openings have disappeared.”

Yes, the industry may place artists at the center of the universe, but there are other bodies orbiting them that make up the entire solar system. The lack of interfacing is only the tipping point of how the coronavirus has impacted everyone collectively. There are others behind the scenes that are gravely facing hardships—more so than ever before.

Uncharted Territory

Booms in the art market are often driven by extended periods of economic prosperity, when more people have discretionary income and the population of prospective collectors, investors, hobbyists, and speculators swells. Moments like the one we’re in now, however, with rising unemployment, instability, and uncertainty, can have the reverse effect. Many are less concerned with starting or building collections than they are with securing the basic necessities in order to survive.

“I am sure people are being more cautious with their money, including spending and investments,” says Otero. “Naturally, this has a huge impact on artists and galleries, as well as others who work in the art community as a whole.”

According to a report published by Statista in November 2019, the global art industry was valued at $67 billion, based largely on spending in North America, which had its GDP grow by 2.3 percent. These figures are a stark contrast to the art market’s $39 billion evaluation in 2008 and 40 percent decline between 2007 and 2009, the height of the Great Recession. Examples of precarity certainly exist; there have been other pandemics and distressing situations that caused a downturn. Through it all, the most agile institutions survived, overcoming hurdles that came their way. The coronavirus outbreak, though, is something that many in the community view as completely beyond comparison.

“We have been open since 1983, and there have certainly been other profound moments: the AIDS crisis, multiple recessions, 9/11, and Hurricane Sandy,” says Wendy Olsoff, cofounder of PPOW Gallery. "However, this is unprecedented and uncharted. Being in isolation, the global intensity, and the fear of illness and death around the world is totally unfathomable—even as we live it.”

“We have had colleagues fall ill and die in some instances, staff across the art industry are going on furlough, there is significantly reduced commerce for galleries and artists, and closure and reduced income for nonprofits and institutions,” adds Loring Randolph, director of Frieze New York. “It will have rippling effects for years to come.”

It’s too early to evaluate the overall financial fallout, but other by-products of COVID-19, as Randolph points out, are currently apparent. To taper the spread of new infections, doors have closed. And when doors are closed, employment drops, burdening the masses with financial worry, which sits under the stress that already comes with keeping themselves and their families safe. Heads of reputable galleries and the artists they represent, more often than not, have nest eggs that they can tap into, but they aren’t the only ones working in the industry. There are handlers, vendors, programmers, administrators, marketers, assistants, and more whose means of living rely on galleries, and art fairs being fully operational.

“Art will evolve and change and react to the times,” says artist Christina Quarles. “It always has. I am not worried about art. I am, however, worried for the people who count on a functioning art industry to make ends meet. I worry for people whose livelihood is dependent on museums and galleries being open, on shows being guarded, maintenance being performed, work being shipped, on sales being made, on schools being open.”

Artists are also concerned about unemployment—just not in the typical sense. To wit, paintings, sculptures, videos, and more aren’t always produced by a single hand. There are many, to be sure, that work solitarily in their studios, taking full control of their output. But in this day and age, a good amount of artists have staff clocking in hours to bring their visions to life. So, even if a creative is financially stable, toiling away in their home, they have to agonize over how to pay their labor force.

“These artists are concerned with how long this pandemic is going to last,” says Lehmann. “Social distancing is a serious impediment to the process of production. Not only that, but there is also some very real degree of financial concern for artists who employ others in their studio. It is challenging to everyone right now, not only artists, who feel this responsibility as an employer.”

Mass job losses, venue closures, and, most significantly, the threat of contracting the disease are factors that the art industry—and every other industry for that matter—wasn’t prepared to face, despite the fact that recessions existed in the past. “The economic hardship might have similarities, but the effect on how we look at art, and how we function as an art community has fundamentally changed,” explains Andria Hickey, senior director and curator of Pace Gallery. To her point, nearly everything has been transferred online.

Virtual Reality

Digital platforms have become the only safe and viable form of communication, and firms are trying their best to adapt to the virtual landscape. It’s an application that isn’t only endemic to art, but also to other industries, including fashion, beauty, dance, and theater. Through social media and web portals, all are attempting to stay connected to audiences, creating on-screen alternatives to the in-person experience. Still, some have a better advantage in this arena. The art industry, in particular, has been comparatively slow to embracing digital resources fully, but recognizing no other means of communication, virtual programs have been instituted to give some semblance of continuity in the community.

“There is no person-to-person or person-to-art contact, because galleries have had to close their doors to the public,” says artist Jennifer Guidi. “This makes a big difference in how people view and interact with art. Although galleries have frequently used digital platforms, they are now forced to transition into the virtual world even further in order to sell artwork, promote their artists, and just survive.”

Frieze, for example, is launching a viewing room via an app and its website that, according to Loring, will become “the digital iteration of the fair” after the cancellation of Frieze New York on Randall’s Island. Galleries like Gagosian, David Zwirner, Pace, Lehmann Maupin, and others are all hopping on board, taking part in this initiative. They are also offering their own online schemes, filling their social channels with content about artists: Q&As, studio visits, music playlists, tutorials, and more, which allow viewers—and would-be collectors—to stay in touch and, in some cases, bid on works. And while shopping online for art is not a novel idea, the coronavirus outbreak has increased these efforts. This, however, isn’t a complete saving grace.

According to 2018’s Hiscox Online Art Trade Report, online sales only accounts for 8.4 percent of the industry’s overall profits. There may be an uptick, seeing how face-to-face interactions are no longer tenable, but it won’t be enough to circumvent the impending financial collapse. It is not economically sustainable. Also, pushing revenue in this way comes with its set of dilemmas.

“There is a change happening, but we are in the midst of learning what this change is,” says Lehmann. “Is viewing art mediated through a screen changing the way we look at certain elements—color, reflection, texture—and perceive art? Will we have more trust in digital platforms as a result of this? Is it changing the very way we value art? This is the biggest question, and we do not have an answer for it yet. There is a world where by looking only digitally at art, I can imagine lasting effects on the perception and taste of art. One can ask: Will artwork that is Instagrammable dictate our taste? Will it determine the trajectory of the art of the future?”

Consensus, as of now, doesn’t think that it will. Loring says that virtual programs are not a “replacement for physically coming together and experiencing art.” Lehmann believes that all these closures will bring about “an intense longing and nostalgia for the physical experience.” Artist Loie Hollowell concurs, arguing that “it doesn’t take away the fact that most of our industry revolves around an in-person experience.” Even with all the chaos, most are remaining hopeful. They are taking the time to evaluate the industry and how it conducts business.

“It is entirely possible to continue and build connections with our colleagues to forge ahead,” posits Olsoff. “But maybe there is a chance to actually build a new and better model for a way a gallery can support artists without all the unnecessary lavish spending, travels, dinners, and general hype that actually was very divisive.”

As far as creativity, the coronavirus outbreak has also led to much deeper introspection. Artists, by and large, were required to hit the pause bottom, which has revealed a sense of clarity that perhaps wouldn’t have been apparent if the industry continued business as usual.

What Is the Forecast?

There is no denying that the art world has its walls. Class and wealth have long set up a divide, barring the masses from fully immersing themselves in the close-knit community. Art itself, though, isn’t so insular and esoteric. “I truly believe that artists are visionaries for our time,” says Hickey. “In a time of global crisis, they can offer new ways of thinking about what we are experiencing, new ways of seeing the world around us.”

Indeed, amid a global pandemic, the news cycle is in overdrive. Reporters, political pundits, health experts, and commentators are all spewing facts and figures, debating over the right course of action to take to move forward. Artists, on the other hand, have the ability to offer a different kind of vision of the future.

“There are so many artists in our program who are sensitive to these issues, which inherently also call in question systemic issues surrounding race, identity, income inequality,” says Lehmann. And with the art establishment on pause, commerce hindered, the requisite social events nonexistent, and the culture at large in upheaval, there is an opportunity for powerful voices and ideas to emerge from this crisis.

“This is a moment for us all to either shrivel or shine; both individually and as a group,” says artist Damian Loeb. “Art is the soul of any civilized society, and I love my part in it; but I am no expert in the business of art, only creating mine. The cruel intensity and quiet smallness of this moment is numbing, and yet it is still moving forward, slowly destroying so much in its unforgiving path; much of these losses only to be appreciated much later, or more likely, never.”

The current state of the art world, like that Sunday in Chelsea, is cloudy. Even with certain digital measures put in place, there is no avoiding the storm. The industry is simply weathering it as best they can, hoping for clear skies on the horizon.

“Coronavirus makes people doubt everything,” says artist Sun Xun. “Everyone’s world gets very small and limited. Finally, we know that we never own the reality we see. Art will have to get more profound, and coronavirus speeds up the process. I think nobody cares about art now, but eventually, people will feel the power of art.”

Ahead, 21 artists open up their studios, letting us peer into their practice and how they are creating art in the time of coronavirus.

Polly Apfelbaum

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

As an artist, I am used to working alone in my studio, so it's not a hardship, but nobody can escape the reality out there with people dying and out of work. So, inevitably that is on my mind. And the uncertainty about what life will look like, particularly in NYC after all this. I was here for September 11, 2001, and it's eerily similar. I'd hope that I am making work that is positive and optimistic in spite of the crisis. In fact, for me having a singular focus, falling back on my own resources instead of working toward deadlines or shows, means going back to basics for me—just sitting and drawing.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

Although my primary studio is in the city, I am out of town in the Hudson River Valley. I have a secondary studio here. It's a renovated barn, a rougher place, where I usually work on ceramics and other messy things—my kiln is here. Occasionally, wildlife wander in. In those days just before the lockdown, I was preparing to start a ceramics residency at Arcadia University, which is now on hold. So I miss the collaboration and the back-and-forth with curators and writers, which continues but now online, which is difficult with something so tactile as ceramics and drawing. Fortunately, the residency is about making work for a show still scheduled for February 2021, so we are moving forward as best we can, which is all you can do at this time. In the meantime, I feel very lucky to have this space to keep working, to connect locally, and do what I can to help.

Angel Otero

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

At times, it has felt strange creating new work, because I keep asking myself questions along the lines of, "Should I be referencing—directly or indirectly—the situation that we are all going through? Should my subject matter reflect it? Does it need to reflect it?" Frankly, I'm not sure what the right answer is. At the moment, I'm just following my instinct and my impulse, and for some reason, the situation has offered me some direction. I have been thinking a lot about family, about the past, about home, and about my youth. These themes are giving me a path forward for my work. It's a shift mentally from some of the ideas I was investigating in my work, but now I'm exploring this new direction and excited by the possibilities.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

It has changed enormously. Before the outbreak, I was busy in my studio, working alongside a great group of people and working on complex processes to realize a new series. And then, all of a sudden, everything had to stop. We could no longer be together in the studio. I had to pause, regroup, and adapt. I decided to leave Brooklyn with my family, and we are now upstate. I felt it was the best decision health-wise for my family—taking them out of the city—and it would also give me the space to realize some new ideas that had been percolating. It's been a mental and physical shift, but it's been a really energizing and positive one. I'm making art differently right now. I am alone with the work and feeling an incredible sense of focus.

Leo Villareal

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

A lot of my projects focus on public art and all about bringing people together for communal experiences, which is exactly what we can't do at this time. Last year, we launched the first phase of Illuminated River in London, which encompasses 14 bridges over the Thames. We are dealing with an audience of tens of millions of people and activating an overlooked but vital part of the city. It's unfortunate to think about the isolation of this time, but I know this will pass. I want to use this period to think and plan for the moment we can all gather again, and the massive celebration that will ensue.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

Instead of my large industrial Brooklyn studio with a 10-person team, I am now working solo in a much smaller garage space. It is a big shift. The studio is working remotely and quite productive over daily Zoom meetings and Google Docs. While my work is inspired by systems found in nature, it's created using custom software and LEDs realized as immersive experiences. More than ever, we are excited to be using cutting-edge technology to be able to encapsulate and transmit what we are doing to individuals via VR and AR.

Being socially distanced with my wife and two kids has been beautiful and also challenging. It will be interesting to see how we look back on this time. I have become attuned to subtle changes in nature and am enjoying watching the transition into spring. I feel really connected to my environment and am listening closely to the sounds that surround me as the noise of daily urban life has quieted.

Liza Lou

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

I ask myself: What does this moment call for? And try to be as present as possible. I keep my work out on the table with everything else going on, so that I can dip in when there is a moment available. Nothing is separate—life and art are one piece.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

As a way to build community, I started a virtual art project on Instagram that I’ve titled Apartogether—it’s an invitation for people to make comfort blankets and to post their progress by tagging @apartogether_art or using #apartogether_art. I’ve created a website, Apartogether.com, that I hope will serve as an archive for this project and moment in time. It’s so inspiring to see the work people are making and posting, just using scraps from around the house. In the best of times, making art is an act of courage. Right now, it really helps to find out you’re not alone.

Sun Xun

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

We must do some special work to fight the virus. I will include some elements of coronavirus into my film, trying to get people all over the world to join us and contribute in their own ways to make the film.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I think there is no change for me. Normally, I don’t plan my work for more than one week. It is just a waste of time for me. The world or the situation is always changing, and the key is to feel the direction, and that’s enough for me. I am always ready for changes, and just like water flows through a river, changing its shape all the time on the riverbed. The world is like a drunken man. You must be drunk too.

Marcel Dzama

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

I feel like creating art has always been a great escape from reality. Being in quarantine just reminds me of my years of living in Winnipeg during the winter months, where it’s so cold outside that you hardly venture out. I’m also rather socially awkward, so I might be designed well for quarantine. Also, my generation was part of the latchkey generation, so there was a lot of alone time.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I am also working at home, so the work has become small and intimate again like my earlier work. I haven’t been to my studio in over a month, which is where I have been working on larger drawings and sculptures. Also, I find the fear, anxiety, and sadness from the virus has changed my art. It has focused it in a more hopeful and positive direction. I find when things are more easy-going, I get a little more cynical and world-weary, but when things are down, I find myself being more hopeful and positive in my work.

Sean Scully

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

It’s not easy to deal with the coronavirus pandemic, because we are social creatures. We like to hang out with one another, we like to go to rock concerts, we like to go to openings, and museums, and give lectures. We like to have talks at universities. We are very good at congregating and hanging out with each other, and this makes the situation very existential. But what it really is, if you think about it, is a return to the 19th century—with electricity. It’s very interesting to see.

Back in the 19th century, people saw a lot less people, because there were a lot less people. There were about 12 percent of the number of people that there are now. This, of course, is part of the problem, and we have to think about ourselves in another way. I think this is a very powerful time for reflection, and possibly not simply returning to what we were doing before, because we are burning up our environment at an exponential rate.

These are the kinds of things that I’ve been thinking about and considering. And, of course, this period of isolation has promoted my relationship with nature tremendously—I’m taking care of my gardens and my grounds. I think it is very difficult for people who don’t have that possibility, who live in the cities. The cities are now terrible places to be, and fortunately for me and my family, we don’t live in the city. But we, of course, didn’t know this was coming. That’s not why we moved out.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I’m tending to do a lot of things that I haven’t given so much attention to, like smaller works on paper. This has become more attractive to me. They take a long time to do, and they are rather intimate works. I’ve been doing that. And I started making pancakes for my son for breakfast every single day. He loves it. So in a certain sense, domesticity has been forced upon us. We don’t go out for dinner any more. We don’t go out to the cinema anymore. So we have to find things at home that are beautiful. So we find the beauty and the grace in small things. Where things are in the room, where things should be. Tidying things up, redesigning our home. Reading books. Books are very nurturing in these times. That’s about it. That’s what I’m doing.

Modupeola Fadugba

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

I am currently doing a six-month research fellowship with the Smithsonian Museum of African Art. It is a generous gift for artists, with no obligation on the artist to produce a final product. I feel fortunate to have support from the museum at this time in my career. Building on my 2018 exhibition, Dreams from the Deep End with Gallery 1957, I'm using this time to expand my visual lexicon around water, pools, and swimming culture-slash-history in the U.S. I got to spend the first two months of the fellowship in Washington, D.C, taking in the sights, monuments, and historical landmarks of the capital city, but now my research has moved online. I am also exploring game designs, patents, and game applications to museum education. With access to online archives and the Smithsonian Learning Lab, it is the optimal balance of tech, exploration, education, freedom, and play for me.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

Before the COVID-19 outbreak, I took 2019 off to focus on research, community engagement, and a much-needed pause to invest in myself, future retirement, and mental health and wellness. So for me, this period since the outbreak is an extension of that break. For privileged artists like myself, who have their basic food, shelter, and health insurance needs covered, this absolutely presents an opportunity to work without distraction—but I resist any pressure to produce. Instead, I am reflecting on the last six years of my professional practice, assessing areas for personal improvement, and enjoying mentoring younger artists with what little I know to be true about success as an artist.

Christina Quarles

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

Artists are incredibly adaptable. We observe and internalize and ponder and reflect on what surrounds us. We are always of our time. And what I cherish most about being an artist is that it requires an ongoing practice. To be perfect is to be stagnant, but to practice is to be ever evolving. And so, while we all face this daunting new reality together, where nothing is certain and we cannot plan for the future because the future is so unknown, I am grateful to have the adaptability and problem-solving skills inherent to being an artist.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

My process remains nearly untouched since the outbreak and quarantine began. I work from home, and my studio manager works from his home. I don’t need painting assistants or fabrication or industrial equipment to make my work. I am used to spending days in a row in near-isolation, not leaving the property, changing from my morning pajamas into painting clothes, a.k.a. ex-pajamas that are now covered in paint, into loungewear, and back into pajamas. And yet, I have found this time to be much more difficult than I could have anticipated. The magnitude of the coronavirus sometimes takes my concentration hostage for hours, even days. With nowhere to go, no friends to see, and only so much eye-tolerance for screen time, I have discovered new coping mechanisms like gardening, going on walks, cooking, reading, watching bees in the citrus trees, playing with my cats—this virus has been a crash course in mindfulness and gratitude.

Damian Loeb

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

Clarity of any kind is difficult in the midst of a traumatic life-changing event, and some kind of clarity is necessary in the responsible act of artistic creation. To be able to relax the necessary amount to be singularly focused in my creative bubble is very difficult right now. Though with the emotional impulses, luck, and support I have been given, it is my obligation to persevere with my work and see these ideas through.

Additionally, there is now the growing bonus that the current works have gained an additional depth of meaning to me in quarantine right now. These new insights and revelations are definite fodder for the future, but finding the good in all this will take time. All of this painful experience will indelibly affect my observations, choices, and every brushstroke from these moments forward.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I have always appreciated and thrived in a smaller and more intimate live-slash-work studio setup. I have so much work I've already chosen and prepared for upcoming exhibitions. Hopefully, I can weather the drought for a bit, just painting with my head down in my basement bunker. After all, these are the very moments artists were built for; to assimilate and translate into human terms these events and experiences that can only be communicated through intimate and personally crafted images of emotions in action. I am on it already, I swear.

Caledonia Curry

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

Like, it's the only way to stay sane. I'm in lockdown in New York. My world is very small right now in many ways, and, for me, this moment has called for a lot of introspection. We will see a lot of art that is a response to this moment, and some of that art will be the result of the time that people have been given to look back and examine their lives. I just saw this quote from Kandinsky from right before WWI, and it has a certain resonance for me in this moment. He said, “When religion, science, and morality are shaken, and when the outer supports threaten to fall, man turns his gaze away from the external, and towards himself.”

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

At the moment, I'm going back to the very seeds of artistic creation. I can't work on big projects that involve a crew needing to come into the studio or a community coming together around a shared physical goal, so I'm turning back to my first love, which is drawing. Creatively, I feel I'm going through a much-needed reinvention, and I'm asking myself why I didn't slow down and do this sooner.

Godfried Donkor

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

The world as we knew it has changed so much since the outbreak of the coronavirus. However, for me as a creative, I have noticed that it has shifted me towards delving further and further into the realms of research and contemplation. This period has seen me continuing to work in the studio, but also taking time to develop new ideas and concepts—a time to be at ease with oneself and to notice one’s environment and community more keenly.

Studio practice is often more solitary than most occupations, thus my experience has been in some ways enhanced by this enforced solitude—be it from building new routines in my studio or finding time to return to my archives. It’s important for me to continue to work alongside my gallery, Gallery 1957, on our future projects, and to work on our schedule of events virtually, if not in person—and especially to look forward to a time when the outbreak is in the past and we have more understanding about our safety and well-being.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I am aware that all our lives have now changed, so new and creative ways of working and meeting—as well thinking about our well-being—are now at the forefront of my mind. My practice outside the studio is certainly more virtual and social media-based, be that for contact or research.

My process since the outbreak has changed mostly in respect to traveling—I particularly split my time between London and Accra—social contacts, and general socializing. For example, my last major project, Battle Royale: Last Man Standing, and my current research has largely focused on histories and narratives surrounding boxing. Part of the process has seen me regularly visiting the many boxing gyms when I’m in Accra, and enjoying the physical and social spirit of this sport. Of course, these spaces—usually an integral part of this community—are currently deserted, and I’m stuck in London. I look forward to when they reawaken, and I can return.

Misha Kahn

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

I saw a huge pile of ads that had been wheat-pasted to a wall in Brooklyn that somehow had all fallen off onto the sidewalk. I felt like I’d walked into a set, because in apocalyptic scenes this feels like a trope, but I didn’t understand why all these ads would have fallen down just a few days into the shutdown. The walls of this construction site had never looked better—bits of color with jagged white outlines speckling a green chipboard wall.

I imagined that all these perfect deckle-edged slices of millennial chalk-toned images lying on the ground would look great cobbled together into a kind of Baroque papier-mâché, Belter-esque cabinet. Maybe the faux vérité of a Glossier girl’s “open” pores would greet you inside the sock drawer when you pulled it out? Or perhaps I could give this pile of scraps the levity of a Kandinsky painting floating on pins? A corner of a TV ad for a man named Dave leaping out of the crotch opening in some underwear might thrust upwards towards the heavens like a chic little accent egú.

Perhaps the torn posters would be best used to make coronavirus shaped piñatas? They’re a perfect party shape, no? The baseball bat would make contact with a section pasted with the pro global-warming ad promoting Grimes. Just like that: two global crises obliterated. The piñata bursts open. The contents: unboxed Nerds candies. They scatter everywhere on the floor, and the guests drop to their knees, take off their masks and begin lapping them off the floor with their tongues, like tigers to expired Walmart meat.

Jennifer Guidi

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

I am thankful that I have an outlet to transform this energy into something light. Even though making art is a solitary practice, I do believe that artists bring joy and light to people, and in times of difficulty such as right now, it is even more important.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

Although my process and technique haven't changed, my intention has changed. The thing I am thinking about now is that we are all in this together, and I ask myself what I can do to make it better, how can I contribute? For example, I am working on a new painting right now, and I consciously chose a color that represents healing and being uplifted, because that is what I want to communicate: positivity and healing.

Jewyo Rhii

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

I haven’t made any new works during COVID-19, though I have been busy dismantling others. In the first week of March, when COVID-19 became serious in Korea, I was managing the dismantling of my exhibition, Love You Depot, at the National Museum of Korea. The entire museum was closed with restricted access, and all the elevators had stopped. Only a handful of people wearing masks were allowed to work in the space and the process was pretty slow. After three weeks of hard work, I was left with a few plants from the exhibition’s “plant platform,” which were being offered to visitors. Most of these plants were picked up by registered people at the outdoor parking place of the museum, but some people who lived far away could not show up because of the COVID-19 situation.

Since I’ve been at home, everything around me has stopped. Only the computer screen is lit up, delivering the 24-hour COVID-19 news. However, I find it truly relieving to see nonstop buds sprouting from these plants.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

My thought process has changed, or other, it has been forced to change. During the course of COVID time, I have sat home alone and recalled the travels I've made over the last 30 years. I thought of the different cities and countries that I’ve lived and worked in as an artist. Then I began to think of the many traveling shows I’ve had and my numerous flights. I remembered the heavy art objects and expensive shipping overseas. People within the art world used to support such complicated logistics in order to deliver genuine artworks to be shown in a real gallery.

Some of these elements in the art world may change and probably never return in the same manner. I have intensively recalled the people I have met and worked with on this long journey. I was only able to grow among, and due to, those people. These beautiful and strange people from all over the world. Would it be far great a luxury to have them close in the future?

Kyle Dunn

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

While it’s tempting and understandable to see art as belonging in an ivory tower, it is also a source of livelihood for a lot of people, myself included. I am just trying to keep on working and absorbing everything I read and hear right now. I am preparing for a show at PPOW, and it’s funny how work conceived before coronavirus looks influenced by it or in reaction to it.

Before the pandemic, I had been looking at horror movie stills—people trapped or escaping domestic interiors—and now they read like cabin fever. So the context surrounding the paintings has shifted and changed how I think people will read them. And as I continue to work on them, I can't help but be informed by the current mood of collective anxiety.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I have the good fortune of having a live-slash-work space in Queens, NYC. I already spent most of my time in isolation painting, so not much has changed on that front! I have been trying to focus on my work while staying abreast of the news, which takes an emotional toll, toggling between perspectives. All we can do is take it a day at a time.

Loie Hollowell

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

Although I am not in the studio, I am lucky to be able to work from home. I have set up a little drawing studio and approached this period as a way to reassess my work in a more free-flowing, experimental way. For the past few years, I’ve been constantly working, always meeting some deadline, so I’ve taken this time to think about my work in a new way without the pressure of trying to make it fit into a public exhibition. It’s restorative to my creative process and alleviates some of the stress to produce just for the sake of production.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I’m unable to paint from home because I work large, use oils, and don’t have the right setup or ventilation to do so correctly. So for the time being, I’m exclusively drawing. I’ve felt somewhat liberated to explore new avenues in my art making. I can just sit down, take a deep breath, and allow my ideas to flow freely onto paper. It’s very meditative. With minimal control and oversight, I’m less concerned with how these drawings fit into the larger narrative of my work—and that’s okay. It’s been nice to take a bit of an intermission in my practice and rethink where my work is headed. Processes need space to reconfigure, and I’m fortunate to be able to adapt.

Krištof Kintera

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

Making art is inevitable for me. It is an addiction. Art is like another language, mirroring reality, and is a part of day and life in any situation. Luckily, I am still able to work. Here in Prague, it’s possible to visit my studio every day and continue doing and making things. My family stays home a lot, but their school tasks keep them occupied.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I’ve had to stop working on a couple of large-scale projects like Praying Wood, which will be a public sculpture cast from aluminum. It is a figure around eight meters high, made of large pieces of wood and arranged in a kind of religious prayer position. I started working on it at the end of last year, and I am surprised at the new connotations it has taken on due to the coronavirus situation.

Also, my exhibition for one of the oldest botanical gardens in Padova and an outdoor sculpture for Arte Sella in Northern Italy have been canceled-slash-postponed. Therefore, I’m putting a lot of my effort into my drawings and also preparations for my upcoming show at Ikon Gallery in Birmingham, which we all believe will happen in September 2020.

Ramiro Gomez

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

I just know that right now, I’m not pressuring myself. I’ve created more than enough work that relates to the very issues we’re living in. I’m not making decorative art, and so now I’m particularly interested in contextualizing the work I’ve done in the past to help others better understand the present. This tough situation we’re going through now is what it has always been like for many of the subjects in my work. The coronavirus outbreak is not the only danger.

It’s disheartening to hear about the mass layoffs of workers at museums and other institutions at this time, and the pressures of people like my father, who works as a truck driver for Costco, but faces the direct threat of the virus in order to keep society running. Undocumented folks have been living under threat and socially distancing for safety. Many have been struggling to make ends meet, working at the bottom of a supply chain—unlike those at the top, who are benefiting.

I’ve felt an urgency to create my art ever since I worked as a live-in nanny for a family in Los Angeles and didn’t see my experiences reflected. And now that I’m working full-time as an artist, painting about economic and social disparities, I know it’s these precise moments when I really have to push myself. I’m just doing it at my own pace.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

Since I’m not able to go out and socialize much, it’s been tough to find the mixture of social interaction and respite necessary for my work to be created. By that, I mean I have never just gone into a studio, thought of what I want to do, and painted it. My studio practice is not traditional. I’m always on the move. I love being out and enjoying myself at restaurants or bars with friends, and visiting art museums or shopping to pass the time, but always with an eye toward those maintaining everything. I always have my phone ready to take pictures of the janitors, the servers, bartenders, cooking staff, gardeners working outside of homes, and nannies that I come across. I have a fair amount of pictures stored that I’ve been digging into for my paintings, but miss the daily physical interaction with the world.

Since I can’t travel much, I’ve turned to reading stories online and Google-searching for images a lot more. I still go for walks or drives and see gardeners out working in this situation, so I’ll take and share photos of that on my Instagram. My process is more or less still similar to how it was before the outbreak, storing images and collecting cardboard and magazines to eventually work with. But I have turned to sharing more about myself and my past work on social media. I have a separate studio in downtown L.A. that I haven’t really been able to go work from, but our spare bedroom in the apartment I’m quarantined in with my husband, for example, was my primary art studio before I started working with galleries. So it’s more like I’m reconnecting with my process from the not-so-distant past. I’m very much frustrated with the state of the world and working at creating a space and a routine to channel my emotions into new paintings—but, as I said before, at my own pace.

Joiri Minaya

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

I think it’s important to keep making art, because it provides a form of meditating on aspects of life that can’t be processed in the same way without it—including the crisis itself. I was discouraged at first with the urgency of the situation, but then I was convinced that it was necessary for me to keep developing and processing my ideas. This is an especially significant moment to be an Artadia awardee, because that support will certainly help push my practice through these difficult times.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

My studio is far enough to make it an event to get there now, so my access is limited. I ventured out for the first time since the lockdown for my Artadia Finalist studio visit. It was done virtually, but it was immensely energetic and inspiring just to be back in the space.

Depending on the project, I can spend chunks of time without needing a studio, but right before the pandemic, I was using it a lot, so it was very disruptive. The perks of an interdisciplinary practice is that I can refocus on what I have access to at the moment, like video, performance, small works on paper, and online research.

Kate Barbee

How do you feel about creating art during the coronavirus outbreak?

Art has always kept me sane through difficult times. When I first moved to Los Angeles, I experienced a different kind of isolation for about six months until I slowly started connecting to people through social media and art shows. Compared to the times when I could only give painting an hour of my day, a side hustle at most, there is a sense of liberation in having art as my main focus and the ability to devote days to my practice. This all feels familiar, but I feel lucky to now have a support network and the freedom to dig deeper into my practice. It’s what gives me power in my bouts of anxious uncertainty.

Has your process changed since the outbreak?

I must admit, it has been difficult to make work about human connection and the many emotions that come with that, because I have been so isolated. Before all of this, it was easy to just fall into a strange hypnosis and paint my feverish memories or fantasies. The intimate connection that was once easily shared with others has turned inward. I have gone deeper into myself and have challenged my perspective to tap into the collective unconscious.

My newest piece that will be showing at Frieze, Quilted Leftover, has a ton of sewing in it. I couldn’t think of anything else to do when the quarantine started. I was really scared, but the sewing kept my mind at bay. I just kept using scraps and old paintings to cut up and piece together. I figured, if I keep sewing, then I am doing something.

Article originally appeared on Harpersbazaar.com.