Chronic Illness & Isolation: How It Shaped My Art

Isolation is something we’ve all experienced in some way since COVID. But for many people, myself included, it didn’t end when restrictions lifted. Living with chronic illness creates its own kind of limitations. Your world becomes smaller. Your radius tightens. Your focus shifts to what is within reach.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in late 2021, during a period when my mental health was already struggling. I withdrew from people. I cancelled plans. I stayed home more than I ever had before. Painting became an outlet, something to anchor me and keep my mind busy when everything else felt so heavy.

At first, I drew inspiration from my own experiences and emotions. But when you’ve been isolating for a long time, there are fewer new places, fewer new faces, fewer shared moments. My world had become smaller, so I started looking closer.

I began painting what was near: everyday objects, cups of coffee and the meals I was eating. Eventually, I found myself drawn more and more to food.

Food had always mattered to me. I’ve always loved cooking and baking, and some of my happiest memories with family have centred around a table. It might sound simple, but food brings connection. It is present. A comforting meal or a sweet treat can soften an ordinary day and make it feel a little more bearable , it becomes something to look forward to. When everything else felt uncertain, food remained reliable.

Turning to still life felt ironic at first. When I was younger, my nan used to tell me that if I wanted to be a “proper” artist, I needed to study still life. I completely dismissed it. It seemed like the most boring subject imaginable. I wanted to draw people, faces, movement, stories.

My nan never got to see my still life paintings. But I know exactly what she would say: “I told you so.”

As I grew older, my view of still life shifted completely. I began to understand the depth and storytelling that can exist within something so seemingly simple. Throughout art history, artists have used food to communicate far more than what sits on the table. In works like Still Life with Cheese by Clara Peeters, luxurious foods symbolised wealth and status. In contrast, the still lifes of Caravaggio, such as Basket of Fruit, included blemished and decaying fruit , reminders that time passes and nothing lasts forever.

Food in art has long represented survival, security, indulgence, morality, comfort, and the fragility of life itself.

Without consciously realising it, I had stepped into that tradition.

Painting food became my way of noticing the small, ordinary moments that shape our days. A fried breakfast. A coffee gone cold while I read. A pastry shared with someone I love. These moments might seem insignificant, but when your world narrows, they become everything.

Chronic illness forced me to slow down. Isolation made me look closer. And in doing so, I found gratitude in the everyday.

Painting food is not just about aesthetics for me. It’s about comfort. It’s about noticing. It’s about honouring the little things that carry us through difficult seasons.

My world may have become smaller… but my appreciation for it has grown.

Maybe your world has felt smaller too.
If it has, and this way of noticing resonates with you, you can explore my food paintings here, each one inspired by those little everyday moments that carried me through.