How art helped me cope with grief during the COVID-19 pandemic

by AryanArtnews
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For the past two years, my vibrant paintings have swallowed the walls of a bedroom that was once undecorated. Each has a unique color scheme. From the pale orange canvas of Lisa Simpson to the soulful butterflies flying in the lilac sky. For me, painting is a therapeutic release that I can’t find anywhere else in the space I use for comfort. I often use journaling as a way to organize my thoughts and track my personal growth, but paintings give me the ability to express my emotions and leave that experience as a souvenir. I can trace back to all of my work and the emotions I experienced while creating it. Adding to the wall of the painting provided an incentive for me to experience a short moment of euphoria and pride in art. Me Made with me Own Vision. You can literally realize your thoughts. When I paint, I find the freedom to mix any color to create another color. My paintbrush can’t create anything but beauty and has the ultimate autonomy to decide how to personalize the canvas. During 2020, I used painting as a fluid art form. It was the only aspect I could control when all other parts of my life were in turmoil during the pandemic.

Since 2020, 17 people in my family have tested positive for COVID-19, two have died, and one of them is my grandfather. My grandfather has lived in the United States with his family since I was born and, as the first generation of Asian Americans, regarded him as one of my greatest blessings. Having a figure like him throughout my life, I learned the importance of humility, honesty, strength, and compassion just by observing him. During a conversation with everyone who entered our house, a relationship with a friend, or the way he said “God bless you” every time he answered and hung up, my My grandfather laid the foundation for my values ​​that I am still alive.

He also served as a bridge between American and Indian cultures. Visits to India were only possible every few years, so I relied on his grandfather to confirm the Indian identity.The universal identity crisis faced by first-generation Americans is humble and endless, but having a grandfather was the way I felt. Sufficient.. I couldn’t grow up with my family in India, so I embraced my grandfather as a connection to my culture. By practicing Telugu with him, listening to him from childhood, and teaching about Thanksgiving and other American traditions, I find a balance that I couldn’t find myself. I was able to take it. Losing him meant losing an immediate sense of my cultural identity. When he died, I had a hard time losing someone very sacred in my heart, and my understanding of who I am.

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