It gives me something to hold on to: the art of readers in lockdown.

Drawing gives me something to hold

My dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer on Christmas Eve and he called me at 6 pm to tell us. We had no idea. He was going to auditions, but he didn't tell us. He got sick quickly, to the point where my sister and I had to switch care the day before lockdown in order for him to have someone with him. I joined her and her partner in caring for him for the last two weeks when all I could do was lull as the wait and stress was unbearable for all of us.

He couldn't control the conversation, so he gave me a role to sit silently beside him, sketching the garden he designed so beautifully. In the excruciating days that followed, it was the only thing that felt remotely right. We didn't have a palliative cancer team because of Covid, but we've had a fabulous GP and district team over the past few days. Seeing his garden looming to the end of my pen gives me something to hold on to. Kara Christine

I wanted to create something like a tribute to key workers

I was inspired by all the key workers during the pandemic as both my parents work for the NHS. I wanted to design something as a tribute to everyone from janitors to garbage men, making an effort especially for those who have been forgotten. Niamh McBride

I became fixated with a bathroom sink

The lockdown has given everyday objects a profound and renewed value. Every day I see, use and sometimes even talk to them. I recently became fixated on a bathroom sink – the one I wash my hands at for 20 seconds every time I walk in. I'm out of a job and I lock myself in a tiny downstairs bathroom and spend hours drawing or painting every day whether I'm happy, anxious, upset, excited, or just bored. The sink has become a mirror of how I feel, an image of lockdown claustrophobia, and, in a strange way, a companion. Claire Parker

I painted during lockdown as a form of therapy

I painted almost every day during lockdown as a form of therapy as well as a great mindfulness activity. I was inspired to paint this photo of Rachel on her roof, not only because it was such an unusual and melancholy pose, but also undoubtedly a reflection of the anxiety and frustration felt by many young people during lockdown. Vicki Maguire, Belfast

These bare trees seemed to sum up how I felt at the time.

In the first few weeks of lockdown here in France, I found these trees in an empty train station. They were completely naked in the morning sun and seemed to be looking for something. It seemed to sum up how I felt at the time. Now that restrictions have been relaxed and things look less surreal, the trees are covered in dense, lush foliage. James O'Hanlon