Items
Subject is exactly
Social & Physical Distancing
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2020-04-22
Brass Band Plays Outside, New Orleans LA
A brass band plays music in a fenced-off field during the COVID-19 stay-at-home order. -
2020-04-07
Social Distancing Markers Outside Bakery, New Orleans, LA
Red hearts spray-painted on the sidewalk outside of a bakery to encourage guests to stand 6 feet apart when waiting in line. -
2020-05-07
Flag Celebrates High School Graduation, New Orleans, LA
A flag hangs outside someone's home celebrating the graduation of a student from McKinley High School. During the Covid-19 stay-at-home order, students will not be able to attend graduation or host large parties to celebrate their graduation. This flag is a creative way to recognize the graduate's accomplishments publicly. -
2020-05-04
Socially distanced dinosaur
A life size T-Rex outside a metalwork studio in Rutland, Vermont is observing safe Covid-19 practices. -
2020-04-16
Quechan Tribe Cancels Full Traditional Funeral Rites Until Further Notice
"Due to a confirmed case in our community...funerals may take place under the big house ramada up to an hour before cremation." #IndigenousStories -
2020-04-16
Checkout at the Supermarket
Workers at the checkout at Woodman's supermarket in Onalaska, WI wear different types of masks as they bag food. A clear barrier between customers and workers was also installed to protect people. Woodman's, like many supermarkets, had to put limits on the amount of certain items customers could buy due to hoarding of those items -
2020-04-27
Window Series #13
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 #11
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 #10
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 #9
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 #8
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 #7
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 #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. -
2020-04-07
Hospital Encourages Continued Social Distancing, New Orleans, LA
East Jefferson General Hospital shares an image of rubber duckies social distancing on social media and states that social distancing is working. -
2020-05-01
A rare occurance of an empty Disney park
Disney Parks rarely close down for long periods in time. The pandemic has created a new first for the parks, as this is an odd sight to see. -
2020-04-11
Customers at Mahoney's Garden Center in Winchester, MA observe physical distancing while waiting to pick up compost, mulch, and other garden supplies.
Confined to their homes, residents of Greater Boston have been seeking solace in their own space by gardening more than ever. The town of Brookline began to pick up yard waste weeks earlier than it usually does as a result of popular demand, garden centers across the city are now delivering supplies and plants to customers, and at Mahoney's a popular garden center in the Boston subrub of Winchester, the line to pick up supplies was hundreds of feet long. Yet the space still felt empty, as pickups were carefully scheduled and masked customers observed physical distancing. -
2020-04-12
Easter Sunday on Zoom
Danielle Gonzalez celebrated Easter with her family through a Zoom call. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, she was unable to see her family for this holiday. Even though they couldn't be there physically, they still saw each other virtually and that was enough. The Zoom call was full of laughter and love! -
2020-04-24
Car Service details
Extra precautions not normally required -
2020-04-30
Staying safe during quarantine
When Covid-19 broke out, everyone began to be more conscious when it came to going out and interacting with the public. The risk of contracting the virus was high and extremely dangerous to some people with health issues. That was the case with my grandmother who is immunosuppressed and has respiratory issues. In order to protect ourselves, and especially her, my family limited going out to just grocery store runs and any traveling for work. We set up our own disinfecting station where we wiped down anything that came from the grocery store or mail, as well as thoroughly washing our hands during the process. We watched the news carefully every day and saw the number of infected cases rise each day, but took solace in knowing that my grandmother was safe and healthy. -
2020-04-18
Movie Night
Tonight was one night of many that my boyfriend and I watched a movie as together as we could during this pandemic. I haven't seen him since March 13th, but using an app to screen share a movie made us feel close. We watched the movie and these texts are the commentary that we wish we could have spoken to each other. -
2020-04-12
Easter with Family Over Zoom
Danielle Gonzalez's family celebrating Easter over Zoom due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Her family was unable to meet in person, so they decided to have a virtual Easter to see how everyone is doing during these trying times. -
2020-04-28
California beaches closed and empty
This is a photograph of a beach located in my hometown (Carlsbad, CA). Due to COVID-19, beaches in the San Diego area have been temporarily closed. No one is allowed to surf, swim, walk, or sit on the sand. If you look closely, you will see caution tape on the stairs and other entrances to the beach have been blocked off. This is a beach town, the beach is never empty and temperatures have been in the 80s. We are entering the time of year where the beach is the most popular and fun thing to do, but now any beach plans will be cancelled until further notice. #REL101 -
2020-04-08
COVID 19 Journal: 04/08/2020
COVID 19 Journal by Kaitlin Whalen written 04/08/2020 -
2020-04-04
COVID 19 Journal: 04/04/2020
COVID 19 Journal by Kaitlin Whalen written 04/04/2020. -
2020-04-17
Social Distance Signage, Ruby Slipper, New Orleans, LA
Social distance signage at the Ruby Slipper in Fauborg Marigny, New Orleans, during the COVID-10 pandemic. -
2020-04-17
Two Men Demonstrate 6-Foot Rule, Bourbon Street, New Orleans, LA
Two men on Bourbon Street demonstrate the 6-foot distancing rule in a light-hearted moment during Covid 19. -
2020-04-17
Streets Vacant in the French Quarter, New Orleans, LA
View of vacant street looking down Burgundy, at the St. Ann Street intersection during the COVID-19 stay-at-home order. -
2020-04-17
French Quarter Streets Vacant, New Orleans, LA
The French Quarter streets in New Orleans are still mostly vacant. This man is carrying a “flat” of Louisiana strawberries home from the market. -
2020-04-20
Reflections in reflection.
Visiting my mother through her window -in her assisted living facility. -
2020-04-28
The Signs of COVID-19
This image documents some of the signs that are being used in public to inform the community about the precautions that we all need to take during the pandemic. -
2020-04-19
A Neighborhood Unified Together
During this pandemic it is important to stick together and lean on the people around us. This image captures neighbors coming together to support each other while maintaining social distancing. -
2020-04-28
Spring Semester
This is where I am forced to spend the majority of my time. My pastimes are online and now my classes are too. I can not get a break from screens. -
2020-04-28
Small Community Library
This is an image of a community library in my neighborhood where people can come and take a book and replace it with their own contribution. Because it is usually touched by many people it has been closed. This tell us that it is necessary to social distance and quarentine for the safety of yourself and others.#REL101 -
2020-04-23
“Porch”rait Photo
One of the things I love to do is travel so in 2018 I created a vacation board of the places I’d like to travel to over the next 5 years. Well, COVID-19 changed my plans for 2020. #REL101 -
2020-04-01
Havasu Lake Tribe Relies on Science For Clues in Operating in a Safe and Sustainable Way
Chemehuevi Indian Tribe Chairman, Charles F. Wood, addresses his community about the sacrifice of having to shut down tribal operations. “It may be lonely, boring and depressing to remain at home but it is safe and we thank you for your sacrifice.” He also looks ahead, “while it is hoped that the worst of the COVID-19 coronavirus has passed, I must emphasize the need to protect ourselves from the lingering possibility of a second outbreak.” #IndigenousStories -
2020-04-01
"Our Survival is Dependent on our Discipline to Comply": Colorado River Tribe Mandates "Stay-At_Home" Order
“All Tribal communities face this plight and we do so with an unyielding will to persevere. Our survival is dependent on our discipline to comply with protocol and precautionary health advice. Our ability to help one another has remained strong and has brought Native American people to this day and age. We will continue helping one another through our compliance to the actions taken by tribal, state and federal leaders and also utilizing the sanitary health advice by the medical and scientific professionals of this world.” #IndigenousStories -
2020-04-21
Hong Kong: Street Portrait #2
As a result of the pandemic, mask-wearing has become a norm in Hong Kong. -
2020-04-26
Tired
Gennady Khodov provides reflections on the quarantine in their home -
2020-04-26
Hopeless laziness
I want to tell you about my expiriense of covid-19 isolation. I'm a little man, 26 age, programmer, introvert, therefore, I endure isolation almost painlessly. At my student times I sat at home during weeks which served as a good preparation for the present situation. I almost don't suffer from a lack of live communication, becouse I have a lot of friends at web, and we can call to eachouthers every day and spend our time by playing computer games. But anyway I have one big problem via covid-19. It is a bigest procrastination. I want to change my job, and thereby need learn a lot of materials, but all this decadent atmosphere making me lost my time and procrastinating. This is horrible. Looks like this pandemic situation indulges to my lazy demons, becouse all people don't do nothing, therefore, I do the same. >_< . Or maybe I justify my laziness in this way. Any way, I know, that all this problems end, and life will return to it's course again. This pandemic don't scared me, but I learned that I must be ready to meet face to face situations, which I can’t influence in any way. -
2020-04-26
Uncertainty (Author: Gennady Khodov)
Reading the news earlier this year, I came across information that people in China got coronavirus, and some even died because of it. When I read the news, I thought it would pass soon and thought the virus wouldn't reach our country. But I was too naive. After a while, the situation in the world was getting worse and the virus had gotten into many countries. At that time, I was beginning to realize that it was all very serious and that the virus was very dangerous to human civilization. In many countries, the authorities took strict measures to protect people from infection. In mid-March, a state of emergency was declared in Kazakhstan. People were in panic. Many people went to shops and bought a lot of food. I had the impression that the apocalypse was coming. But I was calm about the situation and did not buy a lot of groceries. Then I started monitoring the situation and reading the news about the coronavirus almost every day. There was a shortage of masks and antiseptics in our city and the prices of these things were very much up. People started to lose their jobs and I was afraid that I would lose my job too. I was working in another city, and I lived far away from work and in the city where my father and grandmother lived. And now I've been quarantined in many cities in our country. I didn't know what to do when they quarantined me. I couldn't go to another city for my work. I got depressed. I was afraid I would be left without money and all my clothes and documents were left with my grandmother in another city. I couldn't get my stuff to my girlfriend's. My girlfriend is pregnant. And I was also afraid for her. She's about to have a baby, and I lost my income. At that moment I was even thinking about suicide. How can I provide for the girl, myself and the future child in this situation?) These thoughts have tormented and tormented me until now. I got another job, but they don't pay me much here. And this money will probably not be enough, and the baby will be born this summer. Cases of coronavirus are only growing and I understand that the quarantine will last a long time and I will not see my grandmother and father soon. But for now, I'm trying to stay strong and keep my spirits up. I hope for the best... But I don't know what's gonna happen next... Uncertainty is a little scary. And I want to finish my small text with a quote from Arthur Schopenhauer: The world is definitely bad in every respect: it is aesthetically like a caricature, intellectually - like a madhouse, morally - like a fraudulent brothel, and in general - like prison. (Translated the text with a translator. Thank you for reading it...) -
2020-04-02
Watching a movie together
This is me and my friends watching a movie together via special website. Though we weren’t together physically, we still were there for each other and had fun. *Me -
04/23/2020
Local elementary school offers parade of teachers
Since schools have been out since mid-March, the local elementary school in Cave Creek invited families to drive by the school so they could wave to their teachers. This is the digital flier they sent to families to invite them to the "Twilight Tunes Parade". -
2020-03-13
Public Libraries Close, Jefferson Parish, LA
Libraries to be closed due to COVID-19 pandemic. -
04/21/2020
Call for Submissions: North Adams Community Quarantine Cookbook
Residents of North Adams, a small city in Western Massachusetts have begun compiling community recipes and kitchen hacks into a digital cookbook. From the organizer: "Think of this like a potluck, where you share your recipes and your friends can make your dish themselves. It's a way for us to stay connected in these socially distant times." -
2020-04-19
One of Arizona's Creative Roadway Signs
Freeway sign heading north on I-10 near the Wild Horse Pass Casino. The signs states: Stay Home Stay Healthy Stop Covid-19 -
2020-04-21
Market Vendors in Uganda
Market Vendors have been asked to not return home, and remain in their shops over night to prevent the spread of the Coronavirus.