Diagram of A Silent Garden
All white 3D render of an alarm clock
All white 3D render of an alarm clock
All white 3D render of an alarm clock
All white 3D render of an alarm clock
All white 3D render of an air plane
All white 3D render of an air plane
All white 3D render of an air plane
All white 3D render of an ATM
All white 3D render of an ATM
All white 3D render of an ATM
All white 3D render of an ATM
All white 3D render of high heels
All white 3D render of high heels
All white 3D render of high heels
All white 3D render of a mailbox
All white 3D render of a mailbox
All white 3D render of a mailbox
All white 3D render of a piggy bank
All white 3D render of a piggy bank
All white 3D render of a piggy bank
All white 3D render of a traffic light
All white 3D render of a traffic light
All white 3D render of a traffic light
All white 3D render of a traffic light

Diagram of a Silent Garden is an open call for a group show, using the title for a prompt and general invitation. Intended to reflect a range of practice in flux with Covid-19, we hoped to create a space to reconsider making work in our new condition. Initiated to be printed matter, not for sale, and distributed solely to the contributors, as our participant pool expanded the project naturally shifted into online form. We are proud to publish these pieces and thankful to those who took the time. This site has become a wide index of these practices, and in an ever-growing nature will continue to be open to new submissions, with the spirit of open discussion.

Core Team: Brian Sing, Jared Fellows; 3D Identity with Ted Youjong Kim; type design & web development by Jake Brussel Faria.

Stare at the Ceiling

Bix Archer

chandelier over bookcase Window looking out over palm trees Blinds in a bathroom

I re­turned home to my par­en­t’s house (and in-net­work health­care) in early March. My dri­ver’s li­cense ex­pired, and the DMV closed, so I es­sen­tially re­mained in the same 10-block ra­dius for the next six weeks. Painting has of­ten been a way to reach across space and time to ex­plore places that ex­ist only in mem­ory, or are no longer ac­ces­si­ble to me (my grand­par­en­t’s kitchen, the Lucky Penny diner on Masonic and Geary). That shifted in those early months. Through paint­ing, I come to more in­ti­mately know the space I’m con­fined to and to think out­side its perime­ters, to­wards the fu­ture and the past. I paint to ac­cess places I once knew, am com­ing to know, and do not yet know.


Bix Archer is an artist and ed­u­ca­tor from San Francisco. You can see more of her work at www.bixarcher.com.