FRANCESCA BALZAN is an art historian, author, and practising artist. She has specialised in the research and publication of the history of jewellery in Malta and has lectured extensively on the subject. Francesca has curated several exhibitions and authored catalogues and monographs to accompany them. In recent years she has delved deeper into her love affair with clay and is forever fascinated by the human face. Her sculptures can be seen on Instagram @franbalzansculpture 

Had she lived in those times, Francesca would have been part of the Bloomsbury group.

I dealt with the initial onset of Covid in Malta with a sense of curiosity but no great alarm. I work mostly from home so the partial lockdown didn't affect my working life all that much, I learnt to use Zoom and it quickly became the channel of communication with colleagues and friends. Suddenly every single evening for the foreseeable future was freed up. No more pressure to attend social events, lectures, exhibition openings and, more importantly, no more FOMO* for me. That felt good.

I could still sculpt and work on my art and I reflected on this weird new period that all of us, universally, were participating in. More pervasive than a world war, this bless'd Covid was unifying the world, giving us a common enemy to combat and producing touching, humorous moments that were broadcast world wide.....balcony concerts, rousing cheers to health workers, hilarious memes, etc, etc.

I started my own Covid project and made a call, via my Instagram account, for people to sit virtually for their portrait. I got responses from near and far. Everyone was bored and keen to sit still, if only to kill 40 minutes of a dull day. The medium I used was Zoom, which overnight almost everyone was using for office meetings and virtual gatherings. The free version (most of us use that!) permitted only 40 minutes in the virtual meeting room and then you'd have to log in again. I used those 40 minutes as my parameters - not easy considering I had to sculpt a portrait from scratch in clay, but it did give me the discipline not to get lost in detail and to just capture the essence. It paralleled our quick video conferences where we had to get all the agenda discussed as quickly as possible before we were timed out. The resulting portraits were then painted and fired and are very particular - like nothing I've done before or since.

My husband Reuben started working from home - the dining room became his 'office' and I occupied the other end of our small apartment. Because he could now avoid the long commute to and from work and the spring days were lengthening I would occasionally drag him away from his 'desk' to go for sunset walks in the quiet countryside. We explored a lot of the rural areas around our home and found some new routes. I did 20 minutes of yoga daily. Covid numbers were rising but we had a sense that it was truly being held under control and the government and health authorities were acting well. I found a recipe for making bread that was straightforward and doable. All was bliss and calm.

And then my mother was diagnosed with cancer in mid-April and life changed radically. Covid or no Covid I started to visit my parents daily. Sadly, despite our hopes that chemo would save her, her sickness accelerated and I witnessed first hand her rapid decline. Four months later, in mid-August, we laid her to rest. Reader, if you have witnessed the death of a much loved parent you'll understand the debilitating grief that takes hold.

But there were silver linings and I would repeat them like a mantra and be grateful for them. Traffic was lighter and parking was always possible at any hour at hospital, which was very quiet with far fewer visitors than ever before. Small, trivial comforts but frankly they made a difference. Those four months prepared me for what was to come and when my mother died I had a lot of acceptance and peace. It was meant to be. It happened. I could not prevent it. I remember her funeral in particular. Covid figures were starting to run high and we feared that there would be restrictions on church attendance. We wanted to give her a good send-off. Friends flocked to her funeral despite the heat, despite the danger of the virus. I remember a sense of deep gratitude and really drawing support from those many, many people who attended. It meant so much. Our cousins and aunts rallied around and we rediscovered our wonderfully supportive family - another silver lining. My therapy was a daily swim and devouring old novels. I used my mother's kindle. It gave me a connection to her. It is odd how objects, which should mean nothing, suddenly become your daily link to a person who is gone.

Following a hiatus in my art as I struggled over this difficult period, I did bounce back and took to producing sculpture again with a vengeance. Stick my hands in clay, and I'm a happy girl.

As I write this, I reflect that we are so much worse off now then in the first months of Covid. Numbers of infected persons are soaring and the death rate is high - one of the highest in Europe. The message from government is that everything is under control but the health authorities cannot deny that the outlook is far from good. It is a pity - we've gone from one of the lowest infection rates to amongst the highest in Europe. Our only hope is the vaccine, which  is now here. But who knows how many will succumb before the vaccine saves the rest of us.

*Fear of missing out