Artists in the time of Coronavirus, an ongoing virtual exhibition, Part 16

We are all the way to part 16 of our open call, non-juried, online exhibition entitled "Artists in the time of Coronavirus!" We have gotten ~200 submissions, so if you haven't seen yours yet, don't worry- it is coming! If you want to participate, send your statement (250 words max) and 2 photos to

Our sixteenth post of the series, Artists in the Time of Coronavirus includes Bobbie Tilkens-Fisher, Linnie Greenberg, Cliff Gardiner, Richard Metz, Lauren Rinaldi, and Taylor Bielecki! Thank you for all who submitted! And if you want to participate, send your statement (250 words max) and 2 photos to More details here. Stay safe and stay positive, and come back in the days to come for more “Artists in the Time of Coronavirus.” We have a wonderful community and are so proud of being able to share everyone’s art.

[Note: We have gotten over 200 submissions, so if you haven’t seen yours yet, don’t worry- it is coming, and we can’t wait to post it!]

Bobbie Tilkens-Fisher

Fabric artwork with blocky zig zag patterns.
“Judy,” 2020, 60×48 inches, wool on cotton warp. Courtesy Bobbie Tilkens-Fisher.
A pegboard full of yarn on the wall of an at home studio with a deck, a loom and a chair.
Bobbie Tilkens-Fisher’s studio. Courtesy Bobbie Tilkens-Fisher.

I’ve been a modernist for years. It’s exhilerating to bring that aesthetic to such an established artform. As a “modern tapestry weaver,” I take cues from modern and contemporary art, interior design trends and the fast paced world around me; both inside and outside of my home. I often name pieces after people who’ve impacted me during the duration of a weaving’s creation, an event or words that have impacted me or something that makes me smile.


With the craziness that is 2020, I decided to make an epic weaving inspired by three Judiths in my life: my grandmother Judith, an amazing woman who raised me and died after a long battle with cancer at the age of 50 (I was 14), Judith who slayed Holofernes, and Judy Garland, the star of my 2.5 year old son’s favorite film, “The Wizard of Oz.” So much strength!

I’ve fortunate that my Philadelphia home has an attached storefront. During the weekdays, my husband usually uses it as his interactive design studio. On nights and weekends, I’ve been hosting weaving workshops and private lessons. I’ve had to cancel those, as well as the classes I was supposed to begin teaching this month at Perkins Center for the Arts in NJ and The Community Arts Center in Wallingford, PA.

My looms are empty now, and I’m hoping that some kind souls will commission me to make woven wall hangings for them, or maybe buy a loom from me.


Linnie Greenberg

Collage of squares made from ink, paint, paper, and newspaper clippings, connected by long lines with squares at the ends.
Linnie Greenburg, Square Connections. Courtesy Linnie Greenburg.

[ED. Note: This writing was submitted on March 25]

Day 10 of quarantine: Finding peace in the solitude. Grateful for time…to reflect, create, read, take quiet walks, “zoom” get-togethers with the family — happily free of meetings and obligations. I could get used to this. This piece is from online activity scheduled by instructor, Andrea Snyder as we missed our last class, titled Square Connections

Blacka and white photo collage of a man reading a paper with another man with a skull head looking towards him and a lion in the front.
Linnie Greenburg, “Daily News.” Courtesy Linnie Greenburg

I use 1800’s images as the basis of this vintage lithograph series. Some are copies of the lithographs, some are the actual originals. I add contemporary and/ or disparate images to make the viewer wonder and form their own story for the incongruent connections.

This current solitude — this quiet, alone time given to me and many of us during the pandemic, is a gift, really.

Cliff Gardiner

An empty parking garage.
Photo by Cliff Gardiner. Courtesy Cliff Gardiner.
A long escalator with purple lighting running up the sides.
Photo by Cliff Gardiner. Courtesy Cliff Gardiner.

I commuted to my studio from Long Island. Until we were deemed non essential. It was strange going in, being alone on the train. Hopefully we will feel safe again someday.

Richard Metz

A wooden sculpture of a crow popping out of a painted circle with landscape.
Winter Crow, Sculpture by Richard Metz. Courtesy Richard Metz.
A sculpture of a crow coming out of a circular painted wooden surface.
Winter Crow, Sculpture by Richard Metz. Courtesy Richard Metz.

Darker times lie ahead. Crows preside over our unsustainable society. We can grieve, prepare, appreciate what we have, or we can ignore it, and fritter away the beauty at an ever increasing rate. These new works are a somber reflection of the serious danger that the natural world and mankind face as we move further into the 21st century. They are painted sculptural forms, suggesting images that lift off from the flat surface, pushing into our real space, bothering us a bit more. They are also like relics, like a remembrance of creatures that used to live here. Their low color saturation is meant to convey a world with little color, perhaps decimated, perhaps in a long winter. There is little hope of reprieve in these works.

The paint is gouache, with a base of ashes and soil. These earth pigments are meant to suggest a world where colors are in short supply and people must use what is around them. There is an ideology- one of sustainability- to these pigments, as they are available for free to all of us and will not harm the environment. The ash and soil are mixed with gum arabic and vegetable glycerin to become paint.

Lauren Rinaldi

Painting of a woman leaning against a brick wall wearing ripped jeans and no tee shirt, making two peace signs with her hands to cover her breasts.
Lauren Rinaldi, War and Peace. 30×48, 2019. Courtesy Lauren Rinaldi.
Painting of a woman on crutches walking with a cat behind her. Viewpoint is from the hips down.
Lauren Rinaldi, Constant Convalescence. 12×12, 2020. Courtesy Lauren Rinaldi.

Thank you so much for hosting this community project and for providing a platform us artists to find connection right now.

War and Peace.
Constant Convalescence.
Two recent oil paintings I made a few months apart.
Convalescence: the gradual recovery of health and strength after illness. We’re constantly being broken and tested, our bodies are fragile but incredibly strong. These feel right to share together today, as we’re all trying to navigate and settle into the reality of this pandemic, with grace and ingenuity.
IG: @laurinaldi

I hope you are all staying well.

Taylor Bielecki

Paintings of a cocktail sitting on a bar with the bartender in the background making drinks.
Taylor Bielecki, Why do Good Times Never Last. Courtesy Taylor Bielecki.
Taylor Bielecki's hand from the side, holding a paintbrush and painting on a large rectangular canvas.
Taylor Bielecki painting. Courtesy Taylor Bielecki.

I am a walker in the city who is both fascinated and fearful of New York. In my paintings and drawings, I portray urban landscapes that I find myself gravitating toward in darkness. I take inspiration from film noir and its specific scenes of suspense often shot in alleyways and deserted highways. Like a director searching for the establishing shot, I choose each composition that places the viewer in a position of vulnerability.

In these crazy times I am back at home, no longer in the city, no longer matching my usual artist statement. I working from my basement because I am uncertain if my studio is ok to use in a shelter in place. I found a corner between my sister’s toys and have planted canvases to paint, making sure to protect the carpet. I am attempting monoprint at our kitchen table. Being in flux and full of uncertainty has made the creative flow hard to keep, but the creativity is what is keeping me going. It gives me something to look forward to after my early shifts at the grocery store, and even though I am not in New York now, I’ve brought images home to work with alongside my memory and experiences. Hoping something new may emerge.