Monthly Archives: September 2015

Healing through art

Nothing can stop me from producing artwork in any form–not even my illness.

If it weren’t for my art, I would be in the throes of despair right now, focusing on the limitations imposed by my condition rather than the boost in creativity brought on, no doubt, by daily ingestions of dopamine. Granted, the creativity was there already. What’s surprising is the scope and production rate of my artistic pursuits–whether paintings or manuscripts. Six months ago, I could have added playing the piano as one of my other outlets. But my parkinson’s is progressing and my fingers are not quite as nimble as they used to be.

For me, the most debilitating manifestation of the disease is the “freeze” during which I cannot walk because the neurons in my brain are not responding to my instructions to lift my right leg. Freezing occurs every morning before I take my first dose of medication, and every night after the effects of the last dose wear off. Since freezing can happen anytime I don’t leave the house without my cool, colorful, collapsible cane.

I view the sudden loss of mobility as a temporary nuisance rather than an insurmountable obstacle and strategize accordingly.  When I’m home I use props to help me move from point A to point B: a solid wood cane, a bar stool I drag along to maintain my balance while holding on to the wall, a folding chair to rest on (the mental effort required to get the neurons to cooperate is physically exhausting). When none of this works, I drop to my knees and propel myself forward on all fours–the fastest way to reach my destination. Undignified, perhaps, but effective.

Inspiration knows no bounds. Often, an unfinished painting summons me in the middle of the night. It takes a while to get to my workroom, formerly my office, a few feet away from the bedroom. Once there I sit on the floor and gather the necessary tools to complete the artwork. With functioning arms and hands, I’m able to mix paints or cut paper without any trouble. Hours pass. In the quiet of the night I create. I’m happy, fulfilled, productive. And then, as dawn breaks, the pills kick in. I stand up. What a transformation! Not wanting to miss a single moment of my life while I’m mobile, I take off like the wind, thankful for each step–each one, to me, a gift.


Return to acrylics

For several months, while I was furiously engaged in paper cutting, my acrylic paints languished, untouched. How could I abandon my beloved pigments? Experimentation is par for the course in any artistic undertaking. But the worst part was thinking that I might never return to acrylics.

I came back to my original medium by way of murals in my house: a rainforest in the powder room; the Alps in the stairwell leading to my husband’s man cave; Lake Como at the top of the stairs.

What a thrill! Entire walls to play with–no rules, no restrictions.

The Alps (2015)

The Alps (2015)

The murals were a delightful distraction. Physically more demanding than the usual 16 x 20 format.  So onwards to smaller, eye-level designs–minimalist sketches of animals in the wild.

Turtle (2015)

Turtle (2015)

What’s next?

Your guess is as good as mine. I have been called unpredictable. I take no offense. I am predictably unpredictable, even to myself.