It was cold in the shed today. But I went there to draw whatever was in front of me: a cracked flower pot containing a fork, trowel, screwdriver and measuring stick, alongside a bottle of washing-up liquid and some gloves in an old desk drawer.
It was cold. Intermittently, the sun came through the net curtains. I was starting over - trying to get a grip by confronting my social isolation.
I began with a 6B pencil. Then I came home and worked with an HB pencil to sharpen outlines, make the darks darker, the gloves closer, and let the soft light spread across and through things. It was therapy.
And as I drew, I noticed much to do with containment, but also the tools of cultivation. There was the COVID-related bottle of washing-up liquid, and some empty gestures (the gloves). It was stark.