PWMS/Healing Through Art
cowboy
Healing through art
Two women face their illnesses through painting, sculpture
By Dana Oland
The Idaho Statesman
Photos by Gerry Melendez / The Idaho Statesman
Surel Mitchell, 56, continues to paint and heal through multimedia works
after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis 17 years ago and systemic
lupus three year ago. Once a prolific artist, she is only able to work for
short periods now, usually on a smaller canvas. Below is one of Mitchell's
copper pieces, "Implications of Change-Hybrid Creatures I," which deals with
the pros and cons of genetic research.
Surel Mitchell
Art helps make sense of it all
Surel Mitchell feels the weight of the paintbrush in her hand. She adjusts
her grip and fingers its straight shape, its smooth wooden surface. A
paintbrush once felt like part of her being, like her thumb or a finger, a
bridge from herself to her canvas.
Holding the brush now is different. It's hard to describe how. It's just not
the same. It feels distant and thick in her hand.
"It's the MS," she said. She was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis 17 years
ago. "I never thought about touch being something other than temperature or
pressure or pin pricks, but it is."
She sets the brush down. That's enough for now. Once a prolific artist who
worked hours upon hours, now she works for short periods -- sometimes five
minutes, sometimes 20. Then exhaustion takes over.
It takes longer, but every stroke changes something, she says. Every stroke
heals.
"I don't know how people who aren't artists deal with something like this."
Mitchell has spent a lifetime putting her thoughts, fears, frustrations and
joys on a canvas. It's how she functions in the world. Since being diagnosed
with MS, and then with systemic lupus three years ago, the 56-year-old
artist has found her work helps her make sense of it all.
"You're not expecting anyone to pass judgment on it, then you can let out a
lot of things. I was an artist before I was sick, so I was already
processing all this emotional garbage. It's not like I started it to be the
therapy. It's truly a gift that I have. Without it, I'd go crazy."
Her art helps her process her diseases, she says. It has even shaped her
art.
Her MS diagnosis came in 1984. One morning, while on vacation in McCall with
her husband and daughters, Mitchell woke up to find the vision in her right
eye flecked with small pinholes of darkness.
It wasn't the first time this had happened. The first time, she had
convinced herself it was a fluke. The second episode was terrifying. By late
afternoon the dark spots were growing together. By evening she had no vision
in her right eye.
An optical specialist in Portland recommended Mitchell see a specialist with
an expertise in MS. That's when she knew.
MS has erratic symptoms. Plaques form around the nerves. Sometimes signals
work; other times, they don't.
She's experienced loss of sensation throughout her body. It's like the
paintbrush in her hand; the world feels thick and removed.
She has trouble focusing at times and has sporadic memory lapses. Once, she
forgot how to tie her shoelace. Another time, she couldn't remember how to
park her car.
"I just couldn't do it. I looked like a fool. It's very scary to think
about, and depressing, because I was very aware of what was happening,"
Mitchell said. "I can feel my brain shrinking."
Then the symptom goes away. Tomorrow, it may be something else, or she may
be fine.
"It's really funny how your brain adjusts. It catches up. Our whole nervous
system is amazing."
The systemic lupus also affects her brain. It also makes her feel sick at
times and generally exhausted. The heat makes it worse. It drains her energy
to the point where she can do nothing. That makes her "a mole person" in the
summer she says.
"Blinking is sometimes an effort."
Mitchell takes medication daily. One for the lupus that she injects helps
her concentrate, but it's not the same.
"I used to be really productive. I can't focus. I can't concentrate.
Everything is an effort."
Her illnesses have forced her to change how she works over and over again.
Paintings from those different periods of her life hang on most every wall
of her large, open home studio: Large flowers done in oil stick hang in the
bedroom; a wildly colorful, highly textured abstract towers over the couch;
small, intricate, mixed-media collage pieces dominated by bright copper foil
are sprinkled everywhere.
There is even a piece for her cat, Ms. Claw-dia. The small framed image of a
cat hangs just above Claw-dia's bowl, about four inches off the floor.
Everything else lives in storage shelves at one end of her space.
The paintings from her black period were inspired by her temporary vision
loss.
Mitchell bought as much black paint as she could find and painted large
expanses of darkness interrupted by great intrusions of bright, metallic
colors depicting light.
"It was saying, 'Intrusions can be good. Change can be good.' That's what I
was dealing with."
The period lasted three years.
Her dancing colors, a series of large canvases featuring squiggles and
slashes of brilliant color "dancing," came next.
Then came duct tape.
"I thought that if I had duct tape in my house, my car and my studio, I
could hold my life together. I thought, if you love it, use it."
As her marriage fell apart and her disease became worse, Mitchell started
using duct tape on her canvases to make lines and define spaces.
Then, when she lost the sensation in her hands, and holding a paintbrush was
depressing, she found copper.
On a trip to New York City, she stopped in the Canal Street Surplus Store
and found pieces of copper foil. She brought them home and let them sit for
a while.
"Finally, I realized that if I didn't get out to the studio, I was going to
flip out completely, so I started working with the copper."
Even though her hands were at first awkward, with limited sensation, she
found the copper would respond to her touch.
She could bend, puncture and color it.
She could mutilate and camouflage it. She could make it look different, but
the molecules were the same.
"Like me in reverse. I look the same, but I'm not the same."
That's a theme she's worked on again and again, like her piece about hybrid
creatures.
The beasts are half lion, half bird. Some are serpent-like.
One is the image of a monkey injected with a florescent jellyfish gene so
scientists can track the gene in its system.
In the top center is a mirror.
"I can look at this and ask, 'Am I the hybrid creature?' "
Mitchell will continue to pick up a paintbrush every day she can, she said.
The day she can't express herself will be the day she gives up, she said.
"I don't like to think like that. I'm really an optimist. If I can't do
visual art, I suppose I would write or speak into a tape recorder. What if I
end up in a wheelchair? I'll become a wall designer, and I'll be in an
automatic wheelchair and with a bucket of paint and a brush and have an
automatic arm so I can slap color on a wall."
--
Brought to you by Cowboy and Paul Jones. See Paul Jones website at
www.mult-sclerosis.org for this article and many more.
Keith Snyder
> Two women face their illnesses through painting, sculpture
I was hoping someone else would respond to this, and then I could jump in so
it wouldn't be all about MEEEE, but since no one has...
My diagnosis definitely affected my art. One of my first project ideas
during my first post-diagnosis session with one of my collaborators was a
low-budget cross-country road "buddy" movie, in which the MS of one of the
main characters plays a role.
I decided to put that one aside for a while, for reasons other than its
viability. I just don't think it's the best project for me to be working on
right now. But MS continues to find its way into my work; a pivotal
character in THE NIGHT MEN (my next novel, out this November, be the first
on your block, at a store near you) is a PWMS in a wheelchair, and themes of
loss and transformation seem more present in my work than they were before,
even when MS itself doesn't literally pop up.
I don't know how many other people here are artists of any kind, but if you
are, I'd be really interested in how your art has (or hasn't) been affected.
Keith
http://www.woollymammoth.com/keith
(New newsletter now online!)
http://www.mp3.com/stations/operaelectronica
cowboy
is it Show Control, trouble comes back, coffin, and then the night men? is
that the order? does it make any difference which one you start with?
Thanks,
Cowboy
--
Brought to you by Cowboy and Paul Jones. See Paul Jones website at
www.mult-sclerosis.org for this article and many more.
Keith Snyder <ke...@woollymammoth.com> wrote in message
news:B7B1571C.ADA9%ke...@woollymammoth.com...
carmel
I hadn't seen this thread before, but yes, MS has definitely affected my
art. Many here have seen my painting site, where all my paintings are
displayed. There's nothing recent there. My work was usually on large
canvasses, and I simply don't have the muscle power or the endurance to
work like that any more. I haven't completed a painting in about four
years. I'm very sad about that.
But on the other hand, I've been very busy building up a business and
haven't had much spare time either. If I ever get away from this desk,
I might be able to do some smaller works. I don't have a lot of
enthusiasm for the idea. I liked painting big.
However, I'm not completely "artless". I do graphics and web design. I
really enjoy it, although the software (and the hardware too sometimes)
that I use get a bit frustrating. But there are frustrations with any
medium. It's not the same as hands-on art though, and I miss that.
The stories of these people are inspiring, and make me feel a bit
wimpish for giving up so easily. I suppose if I hadn't had so much
other stuff to do I might have tried a bit harder to continue painting.
I did try pottery and found it just impossible because my hands are not
strong enough.
I suppose if i try to analyse it, perfectionism is the real problem. My
hands and arms are less easy to control, so the brushstrokes won't be so
precise. (I get shaky lines instead of straight ones these days). I
don't have the physical stamina to stick at it until I get it right, so
I'll feel unhappy with the result. So I don't try. Wimp. But
precision is possible with graphics. And I have endless patience with
them. I just really need to get some freedom of movement that isn't
possible in graphics.
As for whether MS would influence the content, I'm not sure. Maybe. I
can't walk in the forest for inspiration any more. And I guess I feel
more drawn towards painting people than I used to. Not just nice
portraits, but LIVING people - people doing, feeling, loving,
suffering. I suppose that might be the direction in which my work would
change because of MS. But the joy and beauty of nature is still my real
focus.
(If you haven't seen my work, look at the URLs at the bottom of this
page).
Carmel
Keith Snyder wrote:
>
> > Healing through art
> > Two women face their illnesses through painting, sculpture
>
> I was hoping someone else would respond to this, and then I could jump in so
> it wouldn't be all about MEEEE, but since no one has...
>
> My diagnosis definitely affected my art. One of my first project ideas
> during my first post-diagnosis session with one of my collaborators was a
> low-budget cross-country road "buddy" movie, in which the MS of one of the
> main characters plays a role.
>
> I decided to put that one aside for a while, for reasons other than its
> viability. I just don't think it's the best project for me to be working on
> right now. But MS continues to find its way into my work; a pivotal
> character in THE NIGHT MEN (my next novel, out this November, be the first
> on your block, at a store near you) is a PWMS in a wheelchair, and themes of
> loss and transformation seem more present in my work than they were before,
> even when MS itself doesn't literally pop up.
>
> I don't know how many other people here are artists of any kind, but if you
> are, I'd be really interested in how your art has (or hasn't) been affected.
>
--
"Don't wait for a light to appear at the end of the tunnel.
Stride down there and light the bloody thing yourself!"
Web sites at http://www.jaragun.com/
http://www.geocities.com/peripata/
Keith Snyder
car...@cyberwizards.com.au wrote on 8/28/01 8:31 PM:
> My work was usually on large
> canvasses, and I simply don't have the muscle power or the endurance to
> work like that any more. I haven't completed a painting in about four
> years. I'm very sad about that.
I'm sorry to hear that.
> If I ever get away from this desk,
> I might be able to do some smaller works. I don't have a lot of
> enthusiasm for the idea. I liked painting big.
Have you thought about working small and then blowing it up big?
I'm visiting your site -- it looks as though you're good with logos and
graphics, but I can certainly understanding missing the big paintings. And
I was really taken by your story about Batty!
Keith Snyder
on 8/28/01 7:52 PM:
> is it Show Control, trouble comes back, coffin, and then the night men? is
> that the order? does it make any difference which one you start with?
"Coffin" was before "Trouble."
I don't think it makes a difference where you start (except that I think
each is better than the last), but some readers who started with "Coffin"
have told me they didn't really get it until they read "Show Control."
I didn't think there was anything to "get," but I'm just the author, so what
do I know?