My Virtual Reading Room

"...Yes, I paint for pure pleasure, to entertain myself and my audience. But it is more important to me that my viewers understand my world. The reassurance that I am still connected to the reality of the sighted is paramount in my work. Painting is my way of expressing who I am and what I know. Feedback from viewers is my way of ascertaining that my inner world has resonance in the outer world of the sighted. My question is, "What are you seeing, and is your reality the same as mine?"

That night at the gallery, I went on to say that I live with a chronic degenerative disease and am ever aware of the limited minutes remaining on my life's clock, of my vulnerability and precarious presence on this earth. Like a diary, my paintings record my life. Painting places me squarely on the path of life in the present moment. On this path I have the freedom to accept my fate, to adapt and change. My art is a microcosm of these moments of change and adaptation. In the world of my painting studio, my mind is always occupied, intent on something difficult and challenging and life affirming. I am keeping the doubts and demons at bay. I am not afraid. When I am painting I am the happiest person alive, and when I am not I am blind. Necessity is the real mother of my inventions. If I could see, I confessed to my audience, I wouldn't paint.
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...People change only when they are forced to change. Fear makes us cling to our known baggage, however awful, rather than jettison it in the hope of lightening our load. But what you are saying when you cling to your sinking life raft is "I'm afraid. I don't trust myself." I have a girlfriend who has breast cancer, and she is so angry it radiates from her pores. Her barely disguised rage is so palpable that you don't want to be in the same room with her. Her doctor says she has a 95 percent chance of survival, but her interpretation is "There's a time bomb in there." I've been there; I recognize her terror.

It's not surprising that when I first began to let down my defenses, the paralyzing grief that I'd long avoided replaced my anger. Finally the tears came, carried on wave upon wave of sorrow. When I emerged from the exhaustion of grieving, it was as if I'd gone through and exorcism. The changes were so internal I didn't notice them until they worked their way to the surface and started showing up in my behavior. Wonder of wonders, I was becoming a better friend to my friends, a more compassionate person, a better spouse, a more diverse and interesting human being. Someone fascinated by life's marvels, yearning for human connection and a place in the community.

There is no map that gets you from anger and depression to inner peace and contentment.
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I often find that the audience expects some kind of inspirational tale, but I have a hard time coming up with something uplifting or encouraging to say. There's no way to sugarcoat the hard truth that blindness is truly awful, and living with a chronic disease requires endurance. If I've learned anything, I tell them, it's that there's no viable alternative but to make the best of any bad situation. The crucial thing I've discovered about living with a chronic illness is that you have to live. You have to untangle yourself from the knots of the past and the ineffective energies of the present. Remind yourself that you own your body. A healthy emotional relationship with your body is possible even though it is no longer young, healthy, and perfect. The secret passwords are adaptation and change.

(Lisa Fittipaldi)

This is a follow-up to med-cat.livejournal.com/310511.html