Art is some kind of foreign language. Very few people speak it. Most people wish they could speak it, but think that if they weren’t born with it, or taught it as a child then they are simply out of luck. Not so long ago it was taught at a young age. Everyone carried a sketchbook around with them and honed their skills. It isn’t taught as much in our schools these days, but it is a skill that only requires a desire, and a lot of persistence to learn. You can’t carry on a conversation in French without first learning the vocabulary of that language. Art is the same in that there is a vocabulary you have to learn, a hand eye co-ordination that needs to be practiced. But anyone can learn it. You aren’t going to be able to do a Picasso the first time, but you keep trying. The rewards can be huge.

My wife, Rolanda and I have been honing our art skills for a long time. But it took a couple close encounters with cancer to learn a different dialogue of the art language. The concentration required to do art demands that you be totally in the moment, that you be there one hundred percent. You can’t be thinking about death, misery or any of the negatives that come with illness. You are only trying to produce a work of art all by yourself. It matters little that it is not a masterpiece. The act itself gets you out of your misery, and into the moment. A moment of peace. A moment of self realization.

This is why we try to teach others the language of Art. For over a year now, we have been teaching Art for the Soul. We get together twice a month, and sometimes more, to practice our skills with other survivors. We aren’t therapists and we don’t really teach anyone how to do much. We bring a wide variety of interesting materials and try to provide enough inspiration to plant an idea that they can put down on paper. At times we talk about our illness, our family or anything that comes into our minds. It can be like a sewing bee where we are all sharing, or it can be silent when we are all concentrating. Some enjoy it so much they come every time. Others come and go as their treatments and doctor’s appointment allow. One student went to enroll in an art class at a community college after having produced a great piece of work in our class. Most aren’t that successful, but that matters little. What matters is that moment.

That moment isn’t lost on the stressed out patients and their families. They realize what that moment means to them, when they are concentrating on their art. They do not necessarily know the language, but it is like a universal sign language. When we went to the hospital room of a leukemia patient, she was thrilled to just manipulate the paint, and loved how the bright colors enriched her room. She looked at them when she couldn’t go outside to look at the colors of nature. We left her some pastels and she created a new painting every day. The inactivity and boredom of her hospital stay was in a small way relieved, and she luxuriated in her colorful artwork. Another young woman came in to spend time drawing while her husband was undergoing radiation treatments. She was scared, tearful, and visibly upset. The time she spent talking and drawing were clearly cathartic. Others patients have been so sick they didn’t feel like drawing. I know that when I was going through my latest illness I tried to continue my art, but couldn’t. It was like I was empty or something. I had no creativity in me. One patient gamely tried to work, but finally blurted out that she didn’t want to die. Sometimes being an artist isn’t enough.

 

 

 

 

Below are a Few More Samples of Art Projects Which I Have Been Involved Assisting Cancer Patients --  

 

   

 

   

 

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