Textile Artwork [Breast Cancer Awareness Month]

The month of October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. This subject is very close to me as I lost my mother to breast cancer five years ago. In October of 2011, I took part in a collaborative art show called Womynhouse for which I created the following piece of art entitled “Twenty Three”. The project was a type of therapy that heightened my own awareness of the disease and fostered personal healing. Today, with more vigor than ever, my hope is for a future that holds a cure for breast cancer and for all cancer. 

Please take a moment to read the edited statement I created for this piece two years ago followed by more photographs of the artwork:

Since the day that my mother told me she had breast cancer in 2002, my life has been colored by different shades of pink. Some days have been dark and complex while others have been brilliant and bright. I lost my mom in the summer of 2008 and have experienced all shades of emotion.“Twenty Three” was constructed with three main abstractions in mind that applied to my life: what it means to fight cancer, experiencing loss, and healing / continuing forward after loss. The project allowed me to spend time contemplating these complexities.

After my mom passed away, every day that I woke up and faced the void, and every time I forced myself to do something that scared me, it was with her in mind. While she was sick, she taught that there is no time to wait. We must do the things we want to do in this short life and love the people we love with all of our hearts. My mom lived by example and guided me with brilliance, energy and a true passion for life’s adventures. Even on her most challenging days, she exuded hope and strength and that is how I remember her: strong and determined, adventurous and free.

I hope that anyone who is experiencing a difficult time, especially in regard to loss, can know with certainty that even when everything feels like it is overpowered by a dark shade, there is light and hope ahead. We must charge forward with life’s powerful current, or else we give it permission to pull us under. 

This piece was created in memory of my mother, Amy Dishell. The 621 loops of paper are dedicated to all women who have battled breast cancer, as well as their loved ones. If you have lost someone to sickness, they will never be forgotten. For the brave people fighting cancer and for their families: every day we get closer to beating it and finding a cure; I send you thoughts of healing and love. I hope and am confident that in our lifetime, the word cancer will no longer be associated with loss. 

National Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Susan G. Komen

National Breast Cancer Foundation

The Breast Cancer Research Foundation

National Cancer Institute – BRACA information

Think Cure

Art: Why It’s Important (A Tangible Piece of the Soul)

You will usually find my own artwork on this blog. Today is an exception. The watercolor you see actually belongs to my mother, Amy.

It happened one crispy fall day in 2012 as I was tutoring. I opened up a dusty pad of paper that had been thrown into a large box of art supplies. When I peeled away the yellow protective cover from the crisp white sheets, I was taken aback by this piece of art staring at me. I hadn’t painted it. On the lower righthand corner was the signature “Amy ’99”.

After my heartbeats normalized, I inhaled the poignant flavor of this moment: rich and sweet and slightly bitter in its aftertaste. It has been almost five years since she passed away that hot and sticky July. Life has moved forward with full force since then, engulfing many of us in highs and lows and major life changes. Most memories of my mother are stored in a secure chamber of my heart. Now and then though, tangible objects tug on those little strings.

This particular moment touched me in an earthshaking and pure way. Seeing her handwriting sent a rush of emotion through my body; a waterfall of sensation moved about my veins but no tears accompanied this visceral reaction. I studied her handwriting and brush strokes–her choice of color and light. After gazing into the mystic, I felt connected to her memory. The simple spring watercolor was so…my mother.

As an angsty teen I was focused on MY art and MY expression (this is evident upon looking at photographs of my morphing hairstyle and hair color). Luckily my understanding mom didn’t take it personally. I however do not feel like I spent enough time studying and honoring her talent. After she was gone, her art came to life because I wanted to keep her alive. She was a natural–an absolute Renaissance Woman. I can still imagine the sound of her fingers pressing the ivory-white piano keys in our living room. The melody traveled through our house and filled the open space with light and beauty. I took that for granted. Little things like that are the most precious. That sound is gone, but her handwriting is here. I can touch it, smell it, keep it and imagine her hand upon the paper.

My mom devoted a lot of time (when she was a bit older) to her artistic pursuits. I believe that everyone is a creative soul with a wealth of talent waiting to explode. It does take cultivation and nurturing. As we know, time is of the essence; we get into our routines and another obligation blocks us from carefree actions like creating or following our passions or allowing ourselves to fall in love. I however noticed a sense of urgency when life surprised me with hardship. The sky opened up and pretty much screamed at me,”There is not enough time to wait!”

Although not everyone is inclined to pick up a paintbrush, I do find an urge to share some sentiments. Take them or leave them. I will not be offended.

I’ve often struggled with the concept of being an artist. I always just created because it felt good or necessary at the least. I couldn’t explain it when I was younger, and still I often have no reasons behind my artwork. I can’t defend it. Anyhow, in the past sometimes my need to create actually isolated me from the important people in my life. I needed to feel every emotion and let it explode into art, so naturally I got deeply into my own head and feelings. I struggled (and still do) with questions like: Why do we make art? Is it selfish? What is thisall about? Should I follow my passion? These are common life questions, to which many might relate. These notions especially haunted me after times of reclusion into a world of journals, painting and all-consuming creative periods, often accompanied by emotion and urgency.  When I saw my mother’s painting however, it made sense to me why art is so important in the world and perhaps why those stages of extreme and uttermost concentration are alright.

Here comes my point (I think): art documents the human experience in a way that nothing else can, leaving behind traces of existence and reality. It records the soul’s wisdom, naïveté and innermost desire. It proves that we—emotional, social, talented and invigorated beings—are here, were here and have an ineffable current of energy inside our flesh and bones. We are in essence creating history and representing our unique experience in this world and era. Witnessing the form of ink on paper in a love letter or poem, or pigment on canvas from elegant brush strokes, or the song of a voice carrying through a space can transform a moment in time making it last eternally, though it may seem fleeting in its nature. Life’s finality is exactly what makes art important and beautiful.

As for the questions above like: Why is art important? Well, I think the answers will continue to reveal themselves in an ongoing journey. Like a good painting, the layers  will build with every bump and celebration along the way. I hope that this curiosity will never stop. If you don’t relate to art, maybe this is simply following your passion, whatever that may be.

In an artwork, traces of that person are forever embedded within the color and motion. I am grateful that my mom left behind this imprint of love and that she dedicated time to enjoying her senses through art. Today, this simple painting reminds me that she is still here.

Pen and Ink [Flitting Away]

Impressionist Landcape [Surrey, UK - The Countryside]

The English Countryside

During my winter holiday, I traveled to the UK to spend time with Andrew. It was a breath of fresh air being in England, after spending so much time in busy Los Angeles. The countryside is green, damp, fresh, and just so English. 

Andrew and I spent a lot of time relaxing at his small house, cooking, and having relaxing visits around Surrey. It was delightful and refreshing. This is my impressionist view of his father's back yard, painted from a photograph. I had recently seem David Hockney's paintings in impressionist colors, and decided to try myself. The sky was often dark and moody, but I loved it. It was quite a nice change from LA. 

I sent this painting to Andrew's brother, Tim, and his girlfriend, Shelley. I hope that it will remind them of home. 

Drawing on Paper [Tattered]

Tattered Hand Drawing

During my time studying drawing, I focused a lot on the hand: a very difficult subject for me to draw. What you see before you is a painstakingly detailed drawing on paper, with fine swirling and obsessive elements of line work. I spent weeks working on it, making sure that the finger prints had similarities to the human hand. It was quite an involved process, and when it was done, I was proud.

It was a windy and wet day in Salt Lake when the finished product was tucked away into my folder. On my way back to my car, a gust of wind knocked it out of my hands, and it blew the drawing into the street, only to be run over by a Hummer. I was heart broken when it happened, and I could not believe that all my work had been in vain. But several days later, when I came back to the drawing, I realized that it actually looked interesting in its frail condition. It had character and scars and resembled an old artifact. It was incredibly aged and somewhat eerie. I decided to keep the drawing as part of my portfolio, and I learned the lesson that projects are best kept indoors (not loose in folders).