Mural Commission
My collaboration with the National Alliance on Mental Illness (Grand Rapids, MN) and Grand Itasca Hospital brings a fresh look to an emergency intake room.
Tag: grand rapids
My First Public Work Commission:
NAMI Mural at the Grand Itasca Emergency Room
Mid-September is as close to perfect as I can imagine. The trees are a stunning array of colors; striking burgundy, yellows, and ruby reds. The breeze bristles the leaves and if I close my eyes it sounds like a waterfall just outside of my window. Time seems to slow down and I can sit and deeply appreciate the wonderful place that I get to call home.
In addition to the spectacular lake view and autumn breeze, I am deeply grateful to have been entrusted by NAMI and the Grand Itasca Hospital to create my artistic expression of serenity and healing in one of the emergency intake rooms
After meeting with board members, I found that the care that they take to create an atmosphere of healing and renewal was in line with my artistic vision and ethos.
The Clinical Setting
During my freshman year of college, I found myself on the inside of a clinical setting. I needed help and I was desperate to find anything that would keep the room from spinning. At the time, anxiety was not something that was discussed openly. I had witnessed a murder at an off-campus event. I was away from home for the first time and I had no support. The memory of the event played over and over in my mind. My grades plummeted. I was put on academic probation and ultimately lost my full scholarship. This included my dorm room and my work study source of income.
I couldn’t go home a failure. I found a job and tried to power through it alone. I managed to work and save enough money to re-enroll and eventually found work at a mall. I was better.
Until, during the busy Christmas season, I heard what I thought was a gunshot. I froze. I forgot where I was and was riddled with the worst ringing in my ears and fear beyond description. The screaming got louder as the children poured into the store shouting and crying over the balloon that had been popped. It was just a balloon. It didn’t matter. Several of my co-workers looked at me and all I felt was shame. I couldn’t pull myself together. I walked out and never went back. I never collected my belongings and I’m not entirely sure how I got home. What I do remember was the intake nurse as they took my insurance information.
Depression. That was the diagnosis. I sat in a sterile bright room under flicking fluorescent lights while I saw the nurses come around with little dixie cups filled with medication. I stayed and took my medication and hoped that it would help. The cold floors and the hospital noises were a reminder of how “sick” I was.
As a necessity, there are monitors and other medical equipment in a setting like this, of course, but I longed to be well and out of that environment.
Welcome Home
It’s amazing to know that the girl I was would be writing about the beautiful autumn leaves and the lake view in the pristine Northwoods of Minnesota, but here I sit.
I imagine that my anxiety might have been eased with a little time in the woods. I wish I could have told my young self that I would overcome many depressions and losses throughout the years and still find joy and peace. I think that would have been valuable to know.
It is in this vein that I directed my choices for this Mural. I will be painting a lovely cabin interior with a crackling fire and cozy hearth. The view outside of the “window” will be a lake view similar to what I enjoy today.
I hope that anyone in a situation similar to mine will find the comfort of home while being treated by caring medical professionals and that it will bring peace to others as it has to me.
P.S.
For Mari
As a final nod to mental health and awareness, I will add a small canoe with a single person seated peacefully inside. I lost my oldest and dearest friend to suicide six years ago. There isn’t a day that I don’t miss her. I’ve hung a wooden bird from the window of my office that overlooks the lake. I imagine that she watches me while I play and she is happy for me. I wish she could have seen the lake for herself.
Update: As I was painting the mural I got a sense that the red canoe would not work as I had hoped. I was left with an uneasiness about a lone canoe, so I added two white Adirondack chairs on the shore instead.
Artist Talk
Earth, Water, and Life
I am hosting an art talk relating to my practice in Clay, Fiber, and Watercolor art. This project is part of a grant from the Arrowhead Regional Arts Council in Northern MN.
I will be exploring the results of agitation and water to create works of art and how the same art can be therapeutic while being reshaped by life’s agitations.
You are invited to attend and participate.
****This activity is made possible in part by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Arrowhead Regional Arts Council, thanks to appropriations from the Minnesota State Legislature’s general and arts and cultural heritage funds.**
Beginning with the End
I completed my residency in June 2023. The experience was cathartic and was a turning point for me professionally. I had personal struggles including estrangement from a child. The loss of a child, by their choice, is a crushing blow. I had to face my failures as a mother and come to terms with what was left of me absent from that role.
Choosing to be anything else was like searching through the darkest room with sharp obstacles at every step. I spent much of my time in the Attic working on the mediums I find most rewarding to work with. I found that the components of my art coincided with the stage of my life I was grappling with.
Taking form
The most significant thing I learned was that I had no choice but to feel my way through the darkness. It wasn’t going away on its own. I had no choice. As I worked with the Clay, I added water and pounded it, wedging it between my hands against the hard surface of my workspace. I manipulated what amounts to a bit of earth and water into a sculpture that told the story of how I felt. I cried and my tears added to the moisture of the earth in my hands.
The same formula held true for the fiber that I used in my studio. In an effort to make something beautiful from woolen scraps, I had to add water and pound the fiber until a felt sculpture emerged.
Lastly, came the realization that the watercolor paintings also required the agitation of the pigment blended in water to complete the process of painting an image.
The Agitation was Key
In the darkness, I found the answer to my becoming. I found the value in the agitation and the pain that life brings occasionally. Just like the pain of childbirth, we endure it to find the beauty of a new creation. In my case, I gave birth to a new version of myself. I welcome the process and am less afraid of the pain and agitation that leads to form. I see it for what it is. I necessary step in the process of living this life. It changed my perspective completely.
Water Breaks
I named this sculpture Water Breaks. Originally, the name indicated the break in my relationship with a child. The sadness of the loss. Then I imagined the joy I’d want my child to experience. I was relieved that I had raised a child who had the wherewithal to choose herself and her happiness, above all. I had not been a good example of that kind of personal strength. The darkness was lifting as I observed more closely. It was not my child that was playing in the stream of my tears. It was me. I had found the joy in my work and I was exploring a part of me I had not known and never allowed into the light.
