Items

• 
  2021-01-30

  A View from My Window

  During a difficult time in which we are separated from one another, it is important to make the most out of every small moment. We don't notice all the tiny things that pass us by each day. This is my view.
• 
  2020-01-20

  WuHan quarantine

  This is a TikTok video filmed by residents in Wuhan during the quarantine. They opened the window and asked neighbors if someone wants to make friends and have conversations in real life.
• 
  2020-05-12T17:30+10:00

  Finding Light in the Darkness: Sunset from a Melbourne Apartment in Lockdown

  This photograph depicts a sunset from my apartment in Brunswick West, Melbourne on May 12, just before lockdown restrictions begin to ease in Victoria for the first time since March. I had spent that time completely alone in that apartment, as my room mate left for Queensland before lockdown began, my family mainly lived in Queensland, and my friends lived outside my suburb so I could not visit them. This was isolating in multiple ways and led to boredom, sadness, depression, agoraphobia and loneliness. I captured many sunsets like this over the months in my apartment, which brought a small bit of light amidst the dark monotony of lockdown. From this view I could imagine what lied beyond the walls of my small living space, and look forward to a day where I could feel safe moving beyond home and my nearby grocery store. HIST30060.
• 
  2020-03-13

  Hope?

  Before the lockdown, life seemed so ''normal''. Who knew the new norm would be to wear a mask, carry a hand sanitizer at all times and maintain a six feet distance from others. After being told that everyone has to quarantine from going outside to staying indoors all day. Most importantly, everything became remote. Therefore classes and being overwhelmed by work while not being able to go outside was really taking a toll on my physical and mental health. What gave me a ‘’ray of hope’’ was strangely enough my window. I never thought that looking outside of a window would show me what life has come to and what tomorrow has to offer. Every time I would feel anxious, overwhelmed and in need of a breather I would walk myself to my window. I would just look outside and see the vacant streets. Though it was making me feel ungrateful for how I used to never enjoy looking outside the window, when the children would occupy it. As looking outside my window became a habit I came to realize what didn't change before Covid-19 and now. What did change is the beautiful birds chirping, the beautiful weather, and the rising sun and sunset ensuring yet another day and hope. It is hard to be optimistic at such times but my window made me appreciative of the things I used to take for granted. Such as going outside for a stroll or taking a moment to just appreciate the smallest things around me. Looking outside my window did ensure another day. It endured me just like how the sun and singing birds things will change and indeed for the better. Yeah the sun goes down and the birds leave for their nest but to return for the next day. I've made this a ritual of a sort to walk by my window and take a moment and to be appreciative for what today has to offer. We may not be living in the best of times but tomorrow we'll look back and tell the tales of quarantine and covid-19 to our children and perhaps our grandchildren.
• 
  2020-06

  Political Activism in the Midst of a Pandemic: Aftermath of the Looting in the Bronx

  I took this particular photo because I found it interesting that these already struggling, local shops were looted and were tied to the protests by the media. I did not feel as though these specific actions were tied to the protests however, I do see looting as a valid form of protest when they are targeting big/chain brands and businesses. It was sad to see my neighborhood in this condition. These photos were taken in early June 2020.
• 
  2020-07-17

  Visiting Older Loved Ones Through A Window

  COVID-19 has forced us to innovate visiting loved ones. A common way to get around not being able to see family and friends in long or short term care facilities is talking to them through a window. In this case, a woman stands outside a window wearing gloves and a sign saying "Bob I love you very much!!" and uses a cell phone to talk to Bob.
• March 26, 2020

  COVID Share Your Story #RITtigers #15, Visual Media Major's Point of view

  Yes, I had to change my capstone project as it involved a lot in-person interactions and sharing it during Imagine RIT. I had to adjust and make it a virtual delivery, which is a challenge, but I am grateful for my capstone class to work on this together. One really good thing that is coming out of this COVID=19 experience is that I've been doing 'through the window' shoots around my neighborhood to document what we all are going through. I practice strictly social distancing, and I hope to continue as long as it is safe to do so. I've seen beautiful positivity sharing around in my neighborhood because of this project. You can see on my Instagram @ameliakhamilton for the photos I've done. https://www.instagram.com/ameliakhamilton/ If I could give a message to myself at the start of this semester, what would I say? Cherish every moment. Grab every opportunity. Appreciate what you have!
• 
  2020-03-27

  “Bear Signs ILY in Northborough” A Bear Hunt in Northborough Massachusetts

  To increase social connection without decreasing social distancing, Northborough, MA residents were encouraged to place a teddy bear in a visible location in or outside their house. Those walking outside or driving around the town could see how many they could find hidden among the community’s houses. This was done after a Facebook Live reading of the children’s book “We’re Going on a Bear Hunt” by Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury. This photo is of my family’s Bear out in our front window! Here is the related article that explains the Bear Hunt: https://www.communityadvocate.com/2020/03/25/northborough-families-are-going-on-a-bear-hunt/.
• 
  2020-05-09

  Window

  I am including this selection of two photos of my bedroom window, as this has been the dominant view and my sole saving grace throughout lockdown. The photo on the left was taken in my first week of lockdown on the twenty third of March, which was the first week that I began to stay at home as I am asthmatic and was very concerned about my own health making me more vulnerable. The second photo was taken on the first of June, and marks ten weeks since my own ‘lockdown’ began, I have somewhat lost track of the various stages of lightening of restrictions as I was still mostly avoiding going out up until the point when the second photo was taken. In many ways my asthma and anxiety made this experience pretty traumatising, I stopped walking my dog because I people kept patting her and I had too much anxiety about the conflict of constantly asking people not too, and I was worried about the contact risk to myself from people touching my dog. After the rate of community transmission stabilised, I felt safer going out to places, but then I found the secondary anxiety of people behaving in rude and hostile ways towards me in public due to my obvious coughing or wheezing from asthma after I had an obvious asthma attack in Officeworks. My isolation has thus been pretty intense and long lasting compared to some others and combined with anxiety has induced an intense sensation of feeling trapped in my bedroom. The access to sunlight and fresh air through this window, as well as my beautiful view has been a literal visual lifeline, I found myself taking lots of photos of the window and my view. In many ways I feel like this has made me far more attentive than I have ever had the opportunity to be to the changes between night and day, and the slow seasonal change into winter.
• 
  2020-03-18

  Therapy Dog Visits Seniors

  Article discussing one way to cheer up and visit seniors in residence facilities.
• 
  2020-04-12

  The Teddy Bear Hunt of Hobart

  Over the last month people in my street started placing teddy bears and toys in their windows and attaching them to fences. It only took a few houses to do it before they started popping up everywhere in the suburb, and this image shows the bears in the window of my house. -HUM404
• 
  2020-04-20

  Reflections on reflection

  Visiting my mother through the window at her assisted living facility.
• 
  2020-04-27

  Window Series #6

  In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.
• 
  2020-04-27

  Window Series #5

  In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.
• 
  2020-04-27

  Window Series #4

  In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.
• 
  2020-04-27

  Window Series #3

  In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.
• 
  2020-04-27

  Window Series #2

  In mid-march my school transitioned to virtual classes and sent everyone home for the semester. I've mostly been at home in Manhattan since then; the last time I rode the subway, previously a daily occurrence, was over six weeks ago now. At home and in the neighborhood nearby since then, I feel as though I can look out the window onto a previous version of myself that could not have anticipated any of this. I also feel as though I look at myself now through a window, because after over a month, this all still feels fake in a way. It’s as though time has been suspended and I’m watching myself filling that time that “doesn’t count.” There is a numbness that comes with not being able to do any of what we’re used to and not being able to see people who we thought nothing of seeing every day in the past. The window analogy is both a way of conceptualizing but also deliberately engaging in that numbness and removing oneself from the reality of the situation, perhaps on both a personal and global level. It’s also a way of rebuilding the wall that has been breached by collision of home with the spaces that are normally outside of it, like work and school, and are now part of the same physical setting, albeit digitally. This has made me think a lot about windows, which are everywhere in New York, and so I started to take pictures of windows in buildings I passed while going for walks. The windows themselves all look similar; despite differences in architectural style, they are all in essence the same glass barrier between inside and outside and public and private. It’s not something specific to life in a pandemic, but during this time it is especially relevant because for people staying mostly at home, our windows are potentially the only glimpse of the outside that we’ll see in a day. They divide our former lives and everything that we’d normally be doing outside of home from our current lives that have suspended many of those activities and digitized others. It’s easier to think about these private separate lives going on behind the windows I pass when there are fewer people out on the street. Normally the act of passing people as I walk is more engaging than what I can’t see in the closed-off apartment buildings, but now there is not a lot going on in the streets. It’s interesting to think I’m probably closer in distance to people behind the walls of the ground floors of buildings than the people I can see on the street, especially on the less busy streets that are particularly empty these days.
• 
  04/07/2020

  "This Will Pass"

  It has been a common occurrence to see messages in windows, streets, and porches in the neighborhoods of Chicago. Social distancing has instilled barriers into people’s lives and these messages are a sign from others that they are with you, while we all experience the effects of COVID-19. Some of these messages are uplifting while others can be relatively nihilistic. Either way it can be seen as an expression of the anxieties that stem from this plague—there are plenty of unknowns, but messages like “this will pass” is a nice reminder that community is still present in these trying times.#DePaulHST391
• 
  2020-04-04

  Hearts and teddy bears in the windows

  This house displays two local responses to Covid-19. In the upper right window is a display of construction-paper hearts with a thank-you note to all people exposed to the virus as part their daily jobs, including health care workers, delivery drivers, grocery store clerks, and others whose work is deemed essential. In the bottom right window is a teddy bear. This is part of a "find-the-teddy-bear" game which has arisen as desperate parents try to find ways to amuse their children while schools and workplaces are closed and in-person socializing is discouraged. The game, designed for young children, is to walk the neighborhood and try to find teddy bears (or sometimes other stuffed animals) sitting in the neighbors' windows.
• 
  2020-04-06

  Rainbow Series #14

  #friendswhogive was started to teach my children that GIVING to others can be just as rewarding as receiving, especially at the Holiday time."- Denise Heckelman, Founder #friendswhogive organized a "rainbow hunt" for kids. Families can post drawings of rainbows in their window and as children walk and bike ride around they can count how many rainbows they pass along the way. #FordhamUniversity #VART3030 #RainbowSeries
• 
  2020-03-27

  Creative Solutions Working at Home

  Carboard sunshade taped up in a window in a home office