Earnest

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).


Earnest

When I was nine I rode my bike down to the cemetery and I picked flowers from other graves to put on my Mom's headstone. It was an act of love.

But somewhere along the way we learn not to pick the pretty flowers.

When my Dad was in his mid-fifties he hitch-hiked and walked to my sister's house. No one knew where he was. Eventually he walked up my sister's driveway with a proud smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers that he had picked from people's yards along the way.

In his mid-fifties he had forgotten not to pick the pretty flowers.

Each experience was fresh and new for my Dad, as if it was the first time he had seen such a sunny day or beautiful flower.

Size: (h x w) 16" x 20"

Media: Digital photograph

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Refuge

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).


Refuge

When my Dad was dying, I sat by his side and read Psalms aloud to him. Over and over again I read about the reassurance that God is a refuge.

I read aloud but could he understand? Was he still there? Who comforted whom? Did it matter?

Those words were a refuge in those last hours.

Size: (h x w) 14" x 11"

Media: Digital composition on Arches paper

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Cross-section of Irony

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).


Cross-section of Irony

After my Dad was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s, he used to repeatedly pull each of us aside to tell us that he had a memory problem. It was clearly important to him that we knew. This intimate moment was repeated again and again and again.

Size: (h x w) 10" x 8"

Media: Fibers

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Tribute

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).


Tribute

My Dad was generous, kind, goofy, sensitive, and strong. He was a devoted Christian and a loving father. He was not perfect, but he was genuine.

In his life, in his descent into Alzheimer’s, and in his death he taught me more than I can ever begin to express. I am still learning from him.  

This piece contains several vantage points of where I grew up, where the best memories of my Dad were formed.

Size: (h x w) 14" x 14"

Media: Digital composition

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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

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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

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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

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