Art Heals: Fresh

I made my weekly foray into the supermarket this morning.  Now that I am home and cooking every night (my husband loves this, as he doesn’t cook) I am on the hunt for fresh vegetables,  which are sometimes in short supply, and flowers, (

as many of you already know, my addiction.)  I am lucky to have a grocer within easy walking distance, and for now, enough income to shop for these things.  I know that even before this crisis, many of my fellow residents, in DC and elsewhere, live in “food deserts,” those areas underserved or not served at all with grocers selling fresh and healthy food.  Now even the farmers’ markets, which sometimes took food stamps, cannot operate, and most of those were located a long way away from the neighborhoods that needed them the most.

So I started to think about the concept of fresh.  Fresh air, fresh flowers, fresh fruit, fresh tomatoes.  Fresh thoughts, a fresh attitude, even “don’t be fresh,” to be which was NOT a good thing when I was growing up.

 (Stream of consciousness: have you ever noticed that when you write a word frequently the spelling starts looking wrong? Or is that just me?)

Many of these fresh things are not available to us now or seem to be rationed.  Even the fresh air we so easily share is a precious commodity now, as I stay 6 feet away from my fellow humans and their dogs on my daily walk.

But perhaps we can take a fresh look—at our companions, whom we took for granted, coming home tired after work. (“Did you get a haircut?”  “Yes, three weeks ago.”)

At our living spaces (my clutter drawer is finally getting a cleanout.) At our priorities, at our plans, at our faith in others and in ourselves.

This painting by Athir Shayota offers you a fresh look at beauty, and a new meaning for Still Life, in these times.  There is still life.  Art Heals.