Art Heals: Elision

Since yesterday evening I have been thinking about how the concept of “the weekend” has changed in these last weeks under self-quarantine.   In the pre-q days, the rhythms of my life began to change on Friday nights.  Often, rather than cooking dinner, we would go out, or call in a delivery of Pad Thai.  I would stay up later, watch a late-night comedy.  On Saturday, I would sleep later than my usual 6:45, and breakfast would be more indulgent than my weekday cereal; English muffins or perhaps pancakes if I had blueberries from the farmer’s market. Then sitting on the couch with coffee, reading a few headlines and planning the day.  A long walk if it was sunny, then my round of the local art galleries, to see the shows and catch up with the curators.  Sometimes there would be a movie, or an evening out with friends.  Come Sunday, same thing, adding in Meet the Press to hear the verbal op eds from the journalists.  Another quiet day, usually fitting in a museum visit from the many on offer here in DC.  We sold our cars 10 years ago when we moved to the city, so every weekend I thought about how lucky I was to be able to do all this on foot. Late Sunday some thought was given to preparations for the week ahead—what I needed to accomplish, a little straightening up of the apartment, and the weekend came to a close.

So now I am thinking about elision.   Elision is often used in poetry and music in order to keep the rhythm. When the letters or sounds are omitted, they are replaced with an apostrophe.  In my life, the elision happens as I try to separate the weekend from the work week.  In this new normal we are all facing, hours and days seem to meld together, making it had to tell what day it is. Not in a good way, as when you are on vacation and really don’t care, but in a slow as molasses sort of way that tires and frustrates you as time revolves in an endless loop with no end in sight.

 In response I am trying to replace the letters and sounds of my weekends with an apostrophe.  I don’t work on the weekends.  Getting up later, no cereal.  Longer walk, at a different time than my usual 5 pm.   Grocery shopping if it is necessary.  Lot’s more reading. Lots more catching up with friends virtually, and hoping they have Facetime so I can get some eye contact.  Getting food delivery at least once, to keep our favorite restaurants in business if possible. Still watching Meet the Press.  Substituting hunting for tulip gardens for the museum visits.  Peering through the picture windows of my favorite galleries, now closed, but where art is still visible from the street (thank you so much for installing a show, and not boarding up!)

We will get through this, though it will take longer than we wish. Consider an elision in your life, replacing the letters and sounds of your daily life with an apostrophe of your own.  The poetry will remain.  This is Tulip, by photographer Amr Mounib.  Art Heals.