When Diane and I envisioned this blog months ago, it was as
a way to communicate what we are experiencing as we move through the world as
creative people, as cancer survivors, as friends. There was the intention that
it would be a joint effort, but up until now the extent of my effort was simply
to support Diane as she got the blog up and running—which she has done
beautifully and courageously. I couldn’t seem to get myself to contribute. I
suppose there were a number of logistical reasons--my own recurrence of colon
cancer, caring for my family and myself--but there was also a way that I was simply
holding back.
Diane and I have had many conversations about fear—not the
kind of fear one might think two people with Stage 4 cancer would talk about,
not the fear of death, per se, but of not living fully. Starting a blog was a
dream of Diane’s, and while I love to write and have often turned to that as a
form of creativity and expression, it is painting that has been gnawing away at
my heart for years. I have had periods in my life where I have successfully
made art, showed the work, and had some small measure of “success” in terms of
how it’s been received, but then it always goes underground. Work and family
take over, and it is simply so much easier for me to care for others than
nourish myself--physically, emotionally, and creatively. Cancer has changed
that.
Over six months ago, after I was recovering from my second cancer
surgery, it became clear that I would need to take a leave of absence from work.
My hope then was that I would not only devote more time to making art, but that
it would become an essential part of my healing process. And yet it still took six
months before I was able to get up to my little third floor studio and start.
That is
okay—I don’t judge myself
anymore. But now that I’ve been up in the studio working and bringing a few
pieces close to completion, it seemed that the next step was to share it, on
the blog. This of course meant pushing through more fear. “Is the work too
emotional?” “How will people respond to the text/prayers?” “Is this other,
newer style really mine, or did I borrow it?” Telling Diane that I was ready
and having her come take pictures was a little uncomfortable, but do-able. Then
there was the actual writing of this piece and publishing it. More resistance
and fear. It’s not even so much a fear of “not being good enough” anymore (as
that was the fear for years), as it is a fear of simply being seen, of taking
up space. It’s what the blog is about too--and I think Diane would agree—being
willing to say, THIS is who I am, in all my imperfection and vulnerability. In
the past, keeping myself small made me feel safe, but that doesn’t translate
into fulfillment and joy. So,
voila.
Artwork, unfinished, untitled, but out there.
|
An older piece (1997) |