My first TEDtalk
Delivered at TEDx Anchorage, 2024
Most people don’t get art. They read about a banana taped to a wall in a swanky gallery and think,—- I have a banana.—- I have some tape. Maybe I should be an artist.
So much contemporary art is about theory. Who did it first rather than who did it best. It’s ideas over skill. That's why people insist —- “My kid could do that.”
Well —- I’m going to show you some art that is banana free, a kid couldn’t do, and I believe is meaningful to both the artists and viewer. But first I am going to show you a drawing a kid actually did —- ME —-
(SLIDE 1)
It’s no masterpiece. It is something that any kid at age 6 would do. The marking system is all over the place, the relationship between sizes of objects is way off, and there is no depth. All typical artistic developments of a child that age —- But if you look closely, you can see that I used negative space to make my snowflakes. I thought this was impressive and something a real artist would do. Sitting in my kindergarten class, weighing my future as a Yankee’s short stop or an artist, I knew it would be art.
(SLIDE OFF)
In my 20s, after graduating from college with a design degree I started painting.
(SLIDE 2)
I know this painting is no masterpiece —- but I had a serious health condition, and in this breakthrough painting I started to deal with my health issues —- as you can tell —- I didn’t feel great —- Painting my reality was freeing for me and informational to those who knew me.
(SLiDE OFF)
It has since become one of my life’s missions to share the realities of illness through visual art. I want people to understand that the art made by those of us facing critical health issues is more than just patients being self-focused —- it is important.
Here are few examples of artworks by patients that I have been honored to shown over the past decade. I believe their work got stronger as their health challanges became more apparent.
Ashley Brevin has a cacophony of neurological issues. She went to Carnegie Mellon where she developed impeccable drawing skills.
Let’s see what she did with those drawing skills.
(SLIDE 3)
Here is her drawing of a rabbit. What can we say about this rabbit? —- Well, it looks like it could have been done 400 years ago by Albert Durer —- People painted a lot of rabbits back then. She told me that while in school she felt like her artwork was meandering, directionless.
(SLiDE OFF)
As her symptoms presented themselves, her work changed from outwardly focused to inwardly focused. Her whole world became about HER survival—- So of course her artwork would too.
Ashley had a strong sketchbook practice and she took that book with her wherever she went. Living from appointment to appointment, her sketchbook chronicled the waiting rooms, procedures and medical interventions that now filled her days.
(SLIDE 4)
In this piece from her “Catharsis” series she moves from sketching her daily experiences to depicting the emotional impact of those experiences.
Here —- she is left exposed in an exam room, not knowing what is going on. We’ve all been there, right? —- Wearing paper clothing. Feeling like a piece of meat in a freezer. In her case, the only connection to her humanity is her service dog, still by her side, unaffected and un-judging.
(SLIDE OFF)
Here’s another story of a good artist, who became a great artist when she started to tell her illness story. This work is by another Ashley —- Ashley Thomas. She has Muscular dystrophy.
(SLIDE 5)
Pre-onset she had a decorative line of paintings based on cityscapes. Recognizable, well drawn. Perfect for framing.
(SLIDE OFF)
(SLIDE 6)
Now she paints her DAILY life—She wants viewers to know her REALITY. She paints the rawness and the vulnerability of her situation. She says, “Maybe viewers are repulsed by these paintings but that is something they need to deal with. People see other people using walkers, or wheelchairs but they might not understand how we go to the bathroom - or get from room to room.
(SLIDE OFF)
I can show people that “I am still human, I just sit differently.”
When Ashly was younger she was outgoing. Then the disease hit.
She became a recluse.
One day while rolling around her house she saw herself in the mirror wearing a back support and a neck pillow.
(SLIDE 7)
She thought she looked ridiculous but she also thought this image, half naked in her power-chair would make a strong painting.
Image completed, she felt great about the outcome. Initially —- leery of posting her work on social media and being accused of looking for sympathy, she eventually received hundreds of notes from other patients thanking her for giving them the freedom to expose their own illnesses.
(SLIDE OFF)
She says, “I just want to paint and if I get a reaction - good or bad - I got a reaction. I know that feeling. The worst thing that can happen to an artist is to get a blank stare.
What is so extraordinary about what these artists are doing? Well, I’m going to tell you. The art world is brutal. To be accepted, you have to sell, and if you are going to paint your illness, it means you no longer care about sales. It’s art for art’s sake. No one wants a depiction of your colon reconstruction over their couch. But do you know who does want to see it? Who gains strength from it? Other patients. People who have been through it, looking for their tribe.
Art like this is hard to look at sometimes. But that’s also what makes this art great. —- The truth of it. —- And that is why I show it.
I’m Artist in Residence at The Keck School of Medicine of USC. and I curate exhibits of patient art that correspond to the medical school curriculum. I curate for doctors and medical students, and it changes the way they look at and interact with their patients. My goal is for doctors and medical providers to see patients as complex, complete individuals, and not a pile of symptoms.
Dr. Schaff, Director of the HEAL Program at USC says that when future physicians hear from patients about their lived experience of illness —- and when they SEE that experience represented in the art work on the walls of the gallery — they understand something they’ll never find in a textbook of pathology or physiology.
Back to art…..
Dominic Quagliozzi has Cystic Fibrosis.
(SLIDE 8)
When he was in grad school, he was told, “Don’t do work about your illness”. Images like this were a “no-go”. His professors insisted that his story was too hard to capture, and on top of that, who would care?
(SLIDE OFF)
Who would buy work like that? Grad School is often geared toward getting gallery representation and sales.
(SLIDE 9)
As a result he was pushed to do work like this. Abstract, pie-centric. I love pie —- but this is not my favorite piece of his.
(SLIDE OFF)
Dominic wanted to paint his story but was met with resistance. He had trouble explaining his images and even his materials to people who saw art only as something that should be pretty and non-confrontational.
(SLIDE 10)
This piece was done three years after grad school. By this point he had made the choice to stop worrying about sales.
He now does all his work on disposable hospital isolation gowns, a material meant to be worn only once, then thrown away. His material choice, - a comment on the fragility of his body, pre-transplant.
In this piece titled Intersecting bodies he contemplates the point when he and his future lung donor will occupy the same space. Something impossible except after a transplant. These sketchy brush strokes done in his hospital room days before his surgery tell a very human story. That his life is dependent on the death of another person.
(SLIDE OFF)
Before Dominic turned introspective, he enjoyed drawing but he didn’t feel like he was innovating. When he began focusing on his life with CF, he felt he could use his medical vulnerability as a muse.
He now thinks “medical vulnerability” is an artistic movement, like expressionism. That makes sense with over 50% of the population of the US now stating they have some sort of chronic illness. (**)
James T. Walker worked in animation at Hanna Barbarra for 45 years. He drew all the characters we’ve come to love:
(SLIDE 11)
The Flintstones, the Jetsons, Yogi Bear, Mr. Magoo. He started in animation at age 16 and never did anything else. As an artist and then producer, he was responsible for a good portion of my Saturday morning cartoon watching.
(SLIDE OFF)
At age 61 James developed Parkinson’s. He did his best to fight it. He learned to draw left handed, and what he did with that left hand is amazing.
(SLIDE 12)
He started doing work about himself. In all those years in animation, James had never created a single artwork that he was not commissioned to do… He never created anything personal. But with his left hand he started to explore his shaky existence with Parkinson’s, his depression, his drinking, his looking for hope in God. It all came out through that left hand.
(SLIDE OFF)
He never changed styles. He just - changed - subjects. He went from drawing life in Bedrock to drawing life with illness - and I submit to you, that illness moved him from being a great illustrator to being a great artist, period.
(SLIDE13)
He did this piece the night before deep brain stimulation that gave him back the use of his right hand after 10 years.
(SLIDE OFF)
Cezanne said it best, “A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art”.
The artworks I've shown you tonight might not be the most masterfully created. No one can compare with Leonardo – But they are emotional and compelling and they show us how to survive and live with adversity —- when you can’t walk, or breath or shake.
Writers write about struggles all the time and people think it is great.. The Odyssey, Grapes of Wrath. I think visual art about struggling is even more powerful and maybe that is why it can be so challenging. Great art asks that you not look away. It demands that you look closer and see the beauty of humanity on display – even when it might not be something that you want to hang over your couch.
•
Most people don’t get art. They read about a banana taped to a wall in a swanky gallery and think,—- I have a banana.—- I have some tape. Maybe I should be an artist.
So much contemporary art is about theory. Who did it first rather than who did it best. It’s ideas over skill. That's why people insist —- “My kid could do that.”
Well —- I’m going to show you some art that is banana free, a kid couldn’t do, and I believe is meaningful to both the artists and viewer. But first I am going to show you a drawing a kid actually did —- ME —-
(SLIDE 1)
It’s no masterpiece. It is something that any kid at age 6 would do. The marking system is all over the place, the relationship between sizes of objects is way off, and there is no depth. All typical artistic developments of a child that age —- But if you look closely, you can see that I used negative space to make my snowflakes. I thought this was impressive and something a real artist would do. Sitting in my kindergarten class, weighing my future as a Yankee’s short stop or an artist, I knew it would be art.
(SLIDE OFF)
In my 20s, after graduating from college with a design degree I started painting.
(SLIDE 2)
I know this painting is no masterpiece —- but I had a serious health condition, and in this breakthrough painting I started to deal with my health issues —- as you can tell —- I didn’t feel great —- Painting my reality was freeing for me and informational to those who knew me.
(SLiDE OFF)
It has since become one of my life’s missions to share the realities of illness through visual art. I want people to understand that the art made by those of us facing critical health issues is more than just patients being self-focused —- it is important.
Here are few examples of artworks by patients that I have been honored to shown over the past decade. I believe their work got stronger as their health challanges became more apparent.
Ashley Brevin has a cacophony of neurological issues. She went to Carnegie Mellon where she developed impeccable drawing skills.
Let’s see what she did with those drawing skills.
(SLIDE 3)
Here is her drawing of a rabbit. What can we say about this rabbit? —- Well, it looks like it could have been done 400 years ago by Albert Durer —- People painted a lot of rabbits back then. She told me that while in school she felt like her artwork was meandering, directionless.
(SLiDE OFF)
As her symptoms presented themselves, her work changed from outwardly focused to inwardly focused. Her whole world became about HER survival—- So of course her artwork would too.
Ashley had a strong sketchbook practice and she took that book with her wherever she went. Living from appointment to appointment, her sketchbook chronicled the waiting rooms, procedures and medical interventions that now filled her days.
(SLIDE 4)
In this piece from her “Catharsis” series she moves from sketching her daily experiences to depicting the emotional impact of those experiences.
Here —- she is left exposed in an exam room, not knowing what is going on. We’ve all been there, right? —- Wearing paper clothing. Feeling like a piece of meat in a freezer. In her case, the only connection to her humanity is her service dog, still by her side, unaffected and un-judging.
(SLIDE OFF)
Here’s another story of a good artist, who became a great artist when she started to tell her illness story. This work is by another Ashley —- Ashley Thomas. She has Muscular dystrophy.
(SLIDE 5)
Pre-onset she had a decorative line of paintings based on cityscapes. Recognizable, well drawn. Perfect for framing.
(SLIDE OFF)
(SLIDE 6)
Now she paints her DAILY life—She wants viewers to know her REALITY. She paints the rawness and the vulnerability of her situation. She says, “Maybe viewers are repulsed by these paintings but that is something they need to deal with. People see other people using walkers, or wheelchairs but they might not understand how we go to the bathroom - or get from room to room.
(SLIDE OFF)
I can show people that “I am still human, I just sit differently.”
When Ashly was younger she was outgoing. Then the disease hit.
She became a recluse.
One day while rolling around her house she saw herself in the mirror wearing a back support and a neck pillow.
(SLIDE 7)
She thought she looked ridiculous but she also thought this image, half naked in her power-chair would make a strong painting.
Image completed, she felt great about the outcome. Initially —- leery of posting her work on social media and being accused of looking for sympathy, she eventually received hundreds of notes from other patients thanking her for giving them the freedom to expose their own illnesses.
(SLIDE OFF)
She says, “I just want to paint and if I get a reaction - good or bad - I got a reaction. I know that feeling. The worst thing that can happen to an artist is to get a blank stare.
What is so extraordinary about what these artists are doing? Well, I’m going to tell you. The art world is brutal. To be accepted, you have to sell, and if you are going to paint your illness, it means you no longer care about sales. It’s art for art’s sake. No one wants a depiction of your colon reconstruction over their couch. But do you know who does want to see it? Who gains strength from it? Other patients. People who have been through it, looking for their tribe.
Art like this is hard to look at sometimes. But that’s also what makes this art great. —- The truth of it. —- And that is why I show it.
I’m Artist in Residence at The Keck School of Medicine of USC. and I curate exhibits of patient art that correspond to the medical school curriculum. I curate for doctors and medical students, and it changes the way they look at and interact with their patients. My goal is for doctors and medical providers to see patients as complex, complete individuals, and not a pile of symptoms.
Dr. Schaff, Director of the HEAL Program at USC says that when future physicians hear from patients about their lived experience of illness —- and when they SEE that experience represented in the art work on the walls of the gallery — they understand something they’ll never find in a textbook of pathology or physiology.
Back to art…..
Dominic Quagliozzi has Cystic Fibrosis.
(SLIDE 8)
When he was in grad school, he was told, “Don’t do work about your illness”. Images like this were a “no-go”. His professors insisted that his story was too hard to capture, and on top of that, who would care?
(SLIDE OFF)
Who would buy work like that? Grad School is often geared toward getting gallery representation and sales.
(SLIDE 9)
As a result he was pushed to do work like this. Abstract, pie-centric. I love pie —- but this is not my favorite piece of his.
(SLIDE OFF)
Dominic wanted to paint his story but was met with resistance. He had trouble explaining his images and even his materials to people who saw art only as something that should be pretty and non-confrontational.
(SLIDE 10)
This piece was done three years after grad school. By this point he had made the choice to stop worrying about sales.
He now does all his work on disposable hospital isolation gowns, a material meant to be worn only once, then thrown away. His material choice, - a comment on the fragility of his body, pre-transplant.
In this piece titled Intersecting bodies he contemplates the point when he and his future lung donor will occupy the same space. Something impossible except after a transplant. These sketchy brush strokes done in his hospital room days before his surgery tell a very human story. That his life is dependent on the death of another person.
(SLIDE OFF)
Before Dominic turned introspective, he enjoyed drawing but he didn’t feel like he was innovating. When he began focusing on his life with CF, he felt he could use his medical vulnerability as a muse.
He now thinks “medical vulnerability” is an artistic movement, like expressionism. That makes sense with over 50% of the population of the US now stating they have some sort of chronic illness. (**)
James T. Walker worked in animation at Hanna Barbarra for 45 years. He drew all the characters we’ve come to love:
(SLIDE 11)
The Flintstones, the Jetsons, Yogi Bear, Mr. Magoo. He started in animation at age 16 and never did anything else. As an artist and then producer, he was responsible for a good portion of my Saturday morning cartoon watching.
(SLIDE OFF)
At age 61 James developed Parkinson’s. He did his best to fight it. He learned to draw left handed, and what he did with that left hand is amazing.
(SLIDE 12)
He started doing work about himself. In all those years in animation, James had never created a single artwork that he was not commissioned to do… He never created anything personal. But with his left hand he started to explore his shaky existence with Parkinson’s, his depression, his drinking, his looking for hope in God. It all came out through that left hand.
(SLIDE OFF)
He never changed styles. He just - changed - subjects. He went from drawing life in Bedrock to drawing life with illness - and I submit to you, that illness moved him from being a great illustrator to being a great artist, period.
(SLIDE13)
He did this piece the night before deep brain stimulation that gave him back the use of his right hand after 10 years.
(SLIDE OFF)
Cezanne said it best, “A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art”.
The artworks I've shown you tonight might not be the most masterfully created. No one can compare with Leonardo – But they are emotional and compelling and they show us how to survive and live with adversity —- when you can’t walk, or breath or shake.
Writers write about struggles all the time and people think it is great.. The Odyssey, Grapes of Wrath. I think visual art about struggling is even more powerful and maybe that is why it can be so challenging. Great art asks that you not look away. It demands that you look closer and see the beauty of humanity on display – even when it might not be something that you want to hang over your couch.
•