| In August of 2003, I was diagnosed with advanced osteoporosis and this diagnosis has had a major impact on my life. Probably the most important way it has affected me is the realization that I am physically fragile and I have to be very careful not to fall. This thought is constantly with me from stepping into the shower to walking off a curb in a parking lot. I have had to take prescription drugs for the first time in my life and find specialty doctors. I have had to become aware of my calcium intake and change my diet to contribute to this need. I have had to start walking for exercise and put a halt to any ideas of rollerblading or snow skiing. I’ve had to invest in a new, extremely firm mattress. There have been boundaries put on my life when there never were any. I’ve had to change what kinds of shoes I wear and alert my dentist to my medication usage for fear of jaw deterioration associated with the drugs I have taken. I have had to become my own advocate and research the pros and cons of a variety of medications. I have had to become a spokeswoman to all my friends about the understanding of and prevention of this disease.
I was not able to be creative, for months and months, after being diagnosed with advanced osteoporosis. Only three days prior to my diagnosis, my husband told me of his decision to leave our marriage of 22 years. With the many doctor appointments that were scheduled, I had very little time to work in my studio. Learning to be a single parent and manage my full time teaching position took most of my energy and time. I was completely overwhelmed with the seriousness of my condition, and it scared me. I was inundated with pictures of bones through bone density scans, MRI scans, X-rays, as well as photographs in medical journals and books. Slowly these images began to peak my interest as subject matter, however. I had been doing some minimal sketches of bones, but before completing the drawings, I would be reminded of “why” I was drawing bones and would become so depressed that I would stop. After seven months of being shut down creatively, I was invited to an artists’ retreat at The Laity Lodge outside Kerrville, Texas. I took plaster tiles that I had poured and some carving tools. My roommate at this retreat was a Texas artist that I had studied and respected fully. Our paths had crossed in prior exhibitions around the state and we enjoyed talking and getting to know each other on a more personal basis. I told her about my diagnosis and my inability to make art. She was so instrumental in my beginning to create again, out of this loss. What she said forever impacted me. When I told her of my resistance to using bones as subject matter because of the depression it put me in she said that I had to use bones as subject matter. Because bone imagery was a part of my life I would have no choice but to do art about this. She continued by telling me that I would have to find a way to disassociate myself from the emotion of what it meant and simply look at bones as form. Over the next few days, I began working on the first of many pieces that use bones as subject matter. The art making process has enabled me to wrap my arms around and work through the fears of my illness. Once I was able to look at bones as subject matter, and withdraw myself from the emotion of the illness, I was able to pursue the joy of researching. I was able to expand my vocabulary and understanding of this disease through different art mediums. The reading and research I did for my art enabled me to have more in-depth conversations with my doctors. As my understanding grew of the bone deterioration process, my mediums would change to reflect this knowledge. From the beginning, it has been my goal to not only find a way to cope with my disease through the making of art, but also to share my findings with the public to educate and possibly help prevent, the disease in others. |