A buoy is anchored in the water, a navigational marker where otherwise there would be none. Yet Martin Kersels’s Buoy, with sounds and a flashing light to attract both ear and eye, is not a steady beacon. Energized by a motor, the sculpture shifts its weight, dancing around the floor—but, attached to the wall by an electrical cord, it moves only so far. In the uncertain times of the COVID-19 pandemic, it feels like many of us are moving in this way, minimally drifting, tethered to a wall. Physically and emotionally, we can only move so far. We see family and friends through a screen or at six feet of distance, everyone untouchable, masks covering our faces, our expressions. We are tethered to ourselves, looking out. We seek a buoy, a sight in the distance that will guide us—back to “normal,” if ever there was one—but also realize we are the buoys. We are still, mostly; and for one another, we can signal home and safety.