But Judd’s work ended up feeling strangely suited to the constrictions of quarantine, which—among other things—heightened my awareness of my immediate surroundings. If Judd’s work was a lesson in finding plenitude in what I’d mistaken for scarcity, then quarantine was another version of this lesson: finding more richness than I’d believed possible in this stripped-down life.

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This series of boxes started to remind me of our days: all the same in their contours and their constituent materials, but varying a bit in their particulars. During quarantine, robbed of any narrative arc, I considered with deepened urgency the possibilities of variation as a different form of scaffolding, another source of momentum. Our days had no story line anymore, only a series of subtle changes.