Saturday, July 12, 2014

Departure


This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit.  The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).


Departure

They call Alzheimer's the funeral that never ends. It is true. As the disease progresses more of the person you love disappears. You continue to grieve as the person you know and love vacates. The familiarity and presence of his physical body betrays you, he is no longer there. He is an empty shell. And then death arrives, and he is free.

Size: (h x w)
Media: Digital composition on maple
AVAILABLE

Heredity


This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit.  The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).


Heredity

I inherited a higher probability of getting Alzheimer's from my Dad. His mother had it and out of the four kids in his family, two got Alzheimer's. There are four kids in my family too-- it is impossible not to wonder which of us will get it. I think it will be me.

It is hard not to feel a bit like a time-bomb, with the dread of getting Alzheimer's (or the cancer that took my mother's life at 38). Yet you can't live in fear or you fear to really live.

In this piece there are two staircases to climb. I don't know which one I'm on. One plateaus and one continues on. Regardless of which staircase you or I are on, shouldn't we all be inspired to try to live each day in a meaningful way? Life is a gift.

Size: (h x w) 30" x 20"
Media: Digital composition on canvas
SOLD


Ingenuity


This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit.  The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).


Ingenuity

Sometimes with Alzheimer's you just have to laugh.

One day my Dad decided he needed to reinforce his lunch bag, an empty sugar bag, so that it would last longer. He took that bag and covered the entire thing with duct tape. It was effective and he was very proud. He then took this a step further. He decided to cover the cracking exterior vinyl on the roof of his car, a late-70s Mercury Cougar (with the vinyl roof and a hood that went on forever). He covered all of the vinyl with duct tape. It actually looked pretty good, since his car was silver!

I decided to duct tape a sugar bag in preparation for making this piece. It is harder than it looks! I was surprised that this ended up being a profound moment of connection with my Dad as I went through the same process that he did. 

This piece celebrates resourcefulness in the midst of navigating the shrinking pathways within the Alzheimer's brain.

Size: (h x w) 14" x 11"
Media: Digital print on Arches paper, thread
SOLD




Monday, March 24, 2014

Tangled Memories




This two person exhibit has been the hardest, most personal work I have created so far. It is a two person show in which fellow artist, Marcy Axelband, and I each created work about our experiences of Alzheimer's.  Marcy's Dad is currently in the midst of it, my Dad had it and died almost 14 years ago.

My Dad's memory began to fade in his early fifties, when I was still a teenager. It was a time punctuated by hurt and confusion as he would increasingly forget what I had told him. However this soon transitioned into fear and dread as we began to suspect he had Alzheimer's. 

Early-onset Alzheimer’s. The diagnosis explained the present but haunted the future.

My Dad knew he was forgetting and he was depressed. Until he slowly forgot. 

By 58 he was living in a nursing home. It was an odd sight, a relatively young man among the frail elderly folks you’d expect to see. I would visit him when I was in town, making one-way conversations, not knowing who the visits were for. He no longer knew me. 

I was with him when he died in 2000 at the age of 65. The finality stung, even though he had already been gone for so long. 


I am thankful I did not go through this alone. Special thanks to my sister, Ellen Roodvoets, and my brothers, Glenn and Brett Woudenberg, for sharing their memories and insights which have inspired many of these pieces. Thanks, too, to my husband, Scott, who has supported me all these years, from my Dad’s diagnosis to the making of this artwork.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Remains



A photograph of the Nunnery ruins on the Isle of Iona, in Scotland, is combined with an image of sheep grazing on a nearby hillside. As such, the remains of the nunnery merge with the flock that remains in the pasture offering a reflection on time and place. 

Size: (h x w) 20" x 16"
Media: Digital composition
SOLD

Monday, February 10, 2014

Buttressed



This piece contains overlapping images of the flying buttresses of Dunfermline Abbey in Scotland. These exterior elements provide the support for the interior space. To me that is a beautiful, transcendent thought.

Size (h x w): 30" x 20"
Media: Original digital composition on canvas
SOLD

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Memorialized



While driving toward Iona, Scotland, I randomly pulled over to get a better look at a nearby lake, appropriately named Lake Awe.  I had no idea that just ahead a charming little church, St. Conan’s Kirk, was nestled in the trees with terraces overlooking the lake. 

As I wandered closer, I heard the most glorious sound spilling out from the church-- such amazingly beautiful music! Yet, it was Sunday afternoon, long after church would have let out.  It turns out a Dutch choir had stopped to practice inside the church on their way to a choir competition.


The unexpected surprise in the beauty of the music, the humble charm of the stone church with its lakefront terraces, and the glimmering lake beyond combined into a very moving experience.  I lingered there for a long time. I have tried to capture this experience visually by combining a photo of Lake Awe, shot from one of the terraces, with an image of a locked off side chapel, with light streaming in. Together, they seem to “memorialize” the beauty of that moment.

Size: (h x w) 16" x 24"
Media: Original digital composition on canvas
AVAILABLE