In revisiting my photos from the past six months — for what seems to be an eternity for us all, certain parallels emerged. Be they images of a human, or a natural environment, I encountered an underlying theme. Its quality is both disturbing and liberating depending on one’s mood. There’s also a type of “breathing space” running throughout. In this late August piece, I wished to share my sense of spatial solitude and emptiness.

During this pandemic, we have all seen poignantly powerful photographs that present a dystopic world forever transformed. These images range from scenes of empty streets and train stations, to people leaning out of windows or reaching for their loved ones behind glass doors. While fortunate to remain healthy during this devastating world-wide pandemic, I, like others I’ve spoken with, have also come to appreciate the space, tranquility and quiet solitude of this moment in time. In addition, there is a gift of uncrowded roads where I can bike, walk AND photograph without too much trepidation.

In my life here in the Berkshires, nature has taken a front — but not empty seat as in the above photo. After flying in early May from LA to Hartford with a stop in Chicago, and re-entering the world of the millions of “stay at home” folks, I could also explore the outdoors. Maintaining contact with but a few people, my lens focused on nature: plants, landscapes, gardens including my vegetable garden I’ve tended to unlike ever before. No longer taking for granted old pleasures such as a visit to the re-opened Clark museum was like visiting a new country. While it was nice to enjoy it almost alone, an eerie sense of abandonment persisted.

Why my title, “Distant, Yet Close” ? Accompanying my focus on the void left behind a less crowded world, I felt drawn once again to capturing close ups of flowers and insects. Fortunately, behind our masks there is still breathing space. And you don’t need a mask to smell the flowers, let alone photograph them or the butterflies that pay a visit.

Recently exploring my images of quasi-vacant public spaces before coming home, I realized how my vision had taken on another dimension. Architectural lines, patterns, colors, lights and shiny textures like stainless steel stood out. Here was an empty stage set with only a couple of us left holding a ticket.

Below, in what would traditionally be a bustling scene in LAX, there was no problem in capturing an image of my husband, David. And this was in the middle of the day - not 2 AM.