The Little Covid That Could (and the little me that could a little more)

By Sammi Rowell

Covid had a surprisingly intense impact on my photography. My pictures have always been my way of capturing the world around me, and the people in it, through my eyes, and once covid was in full swing, my passion sort of died. I had a lot of projects lined up, artistic endeavors that I was buzzing with excitement to produce, and the world as we knew it, the world in which my plans could have come to fruition, was shattered. I think the worst part of all of it was that despite being inspired and having all of these ideas, I couldn’t bring myself to create for the longest time.

I can’t be entirely mad at covid when it comes to my art, however. Something about being in isolation most of the time made me come to understand just how heavily I adored people-- It helped me to realize that life is what inspired me the most. I wrote more than I’ve ever written during this period, highlighting my weird, tear-filled admiration at the joys of being alive, and I came to understand that most people are truly good, to their core.

From these, my darkest hours, came this sort of divine inspiration, a feeling I have been fiending after since the start of this year, and I began creating. Not much, at first. It began with long-winded journal entries detailing the way I felt about people and being alive and the life that I myself lead, and it continued into poetry and new ideas for photography that captured my feelings towards these things. I have so many plans now, and a burning ambition in my chest to make them a reality, and I don’t think I could have ever gotten to this point had I not suffered for it.

Cliche as it may be, I think that the idea of “It’s always darkest before the dawn” really applies here. I mean, sitting in silence as I fall apart and watch the sunrise having not slept in 40 hours brings forth a lot more inspiration than I could have ever had if I wasn’t hurting. I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to see how far my ideas take me. (Keep an eye out, though!)