An Artist Talk where I discuss my processes, inspirations, and influences in support of my 2024 exhibition “Emergence: Creativity, Illness and Healing” at Hopkins Center for the Arts.

MARKING TIME

The concept behind this series was to mark time like a calendar, using changing circle patterns to depict the transformation of healing. After receiving the correct diagnosis, I was told that with treatment, I could continue to see improvements for three years. I broke this down to 36 months and started to count down. I believed I would create a series of paintings which mirrored my physical metamorphosis. But that did not occur; the series is incomplete because my health crashed before the three years were up.

*Click on images to view a full size slide show.

Current Exhibition at Hopkins Center for the Arts
October 24 - December 1

emergence: CREATIVITY, ILLNESS & HEALING

I created this body of work to find meaning in the most difficult experience of my life – becoming seriously ill with undiagnosed infections that led to living with chronic illness and disability. It took 15 years to get the correct diagnosis and another 7 debilitating years to find effective treatment. During the worst of it, I was far too sick to make art, an unbearable loss on top of all that I had already lost.

When I was still able to paint, I painted. When I could no longer paint, I saved the mountain of weekly medical supplies used for treatment with the intention of making art from them once my health improved. Collecting and sorting the supplies embedded in my daily life provided an abundance of raw materials. This became a meditative ritual, even in the face of severe impairment. The creative possibilities inspired me.

Visualizing and sketching ideas gave me purpose, hope and a positive focus, essential elements of my healing. As my health improved, I began making 3D work from the discarded materials. I continue to work with them to create new sculptures for this project.

This work depicts various stages of my healing journey from Lyme disease and demonstrates that beauty and meaningful creations can come from arduous experiences. It is my hope this work brings awareness to invisible disability.

MARKING TIME 36: Acrylic, oil and horsehair on canvas. 24 x 24 x 1.5". 2013 SOLD

MARKING TIME 33: Acrylic, oil and horsehair on canvas. 24 x 24 x 1.5". 2013 SOLD

MARKING TIME 30: Acrylic, oil and horsehair on canvas. 24 x 24 x 1.5". 2013

MARKING TIME 26: Acrylic, oil and horsehair on canvas. 24 x 24 x 1.5". 2014

MARKING TIME 19: Acrylic, oil and horsehair on canvas. 24 x 24 x 1.5". 2014

MAKING MARKS

I made this series after my health crashed and was working with a specialist to find a treatment to which I would respond. Although very ill and too fatigued to stand up, I was compelled to make art. I tacked paper on the wall and wheeled my chair up to the paper to make marks. Then, I wheeled across my studio to look at and evaluate the marks. My only guidelines were to work in black and white because I was too sick to consider color, and to make marks that pleased me. In retrospect, this work embodies the movement that was impossible for me to actualize at the time.

*Click on images to view a full size slide show.

MAKING MARKS I: Acrylic and pencil on paper. 3 x 3'. 2015

MAKING MARKS II: Acrylic and pencil on paper. 3 x 3'. 2015

MAKING MARKS III: Acrylic and pencil on paper. 3 x 3'. 2016

SENTINELS

These sculptures are made from pieces of polystyrene foam that lined the boxes of medical supplies I received weekly for 3 years while on IV antibiotics. Polystyrene foam is used to protect but is also susceptible to damage, and therefore vulnerable, like the bodies of many with chronic illness. While sorting the pieces of foam into different piles by size, I realized it made a natural spiral, the physical form of one bacteria from which I was healing.

The word sentinel has multiple and sometimes paradoxical meanings. One meaning is a soldier or guard whose job is to stand and keep watch. But in medicine, a sentinel is something that acts as an indicator of disease.

*Click on images to view a full size slide show.
*The following images depict work created from the collected medical supplies.

SENTINELS: Polystyrene foam, wood, acrylic paint and screws. 4 x 6.5 x 3' D. 2023

SENTINELS (detail): Polystyrene foam, wood, acrylic paint and screws.

THE VEIL

Note: This sculpture will be on display at the Hopkins Center for the Arts until April 27, 2025.

I used alcohol wipes several times a day to hook/unhook from IV antibiotics and to give myself various injections. Regular acupuncture helped stimulate my central nervous system and activate immune response. The alcohol wipes are delicate and limp, which represents how vulnerable and lifeless I felt. The needle covers depict the rigidity and strict adherence to treatment protocols needed in order to recover.

This work symbolizes a veil that existed between me and the world. This veil was a result of neurological symptoms, impairments and depleted life force. Collectively, these symptoms suppressed my ability to track and process external stimulation, and caused a delay between an experience and my response/reaction to it. My life was hanging in limbo behind an amorphous but relentless veil.

*The following images depict work created from the collected medical supplies.

THE VEIL: Plastic acupuncture needle covers, sanitized alcohol wipes, mono filament, metal swivels, lead split shot, metal hooks and red thread. 70" W x 8' H x 24" D. 2024

THE VEIL (detail): Plastic acupuncture needle covers, sanitized alcohol wipes, mono filament, metal swivels, lead split shot, metal hooks and red thread.

STILL DREAMING

I had a love/hate relationship with the IV antibiotics. These medications were slowly killing the bacterial infections but also contributed to my debilitating fatigue. However, I became intrigued with the self pumping antibiotic bulbs used to administer the medications via a PICC line, and was convinced that I could make something from them at a later date.

This sculpture represents a turning point in my healing journey. I slowly realized and accepted that one of the only things I could control was what I did with my mind. Instead of ruminating on my losses, I chose to focus on gratitude. As I’ve regained some of my functioning, I’m rebuilding a meaningful life with the limitations that I have. Breath by breath, moment by moment the veil recedes and I’m still here. Still dreaming.