Mood:
on fireTopic: art in progress
I got this email from a schizophrenic friend. He is a cheeky guy. Reminds me of a little boy playing inside the cab of a gigantic crane and wrecking ball.
"Why did you switch to different medicine? Are you really schizo, or do you just like sitting around making art? Ponder these questions. You will
be graded."
I hope he will still be my friend after what I wrote back.
"So, I'm being graded? ok.
Fuck you for being so pretentious as to know what it feels like to be me. Fuck you for not understanding my achievement being an artist. I got this disease the old fashioned way - no fun with hallucinogenic drugs like you, Stand, and Webster. Have you any idea what a dork I feel like because you three all can work? My schizophrenic uncle can stand and spit on the ground for hours on end. Fuck you if you don't know how this disease - not the fun drugs you took - how this disease can rot out the brain.
You seem to be saying that I rather be sick so I can paint instead of going to work. You have no fucking idea what life is like for me without the medication. I know what I would have without the medication. I would have big problems with my family. I would not be getting married because it would be very hard to live with me. I'd be unpredictable. I'd be fun, fabulous, weepy, poor, toothless, aimless, in and out of the hospital and yes, probably not half the artist I am today.
I was somebody really going places before I got sick. My brain got me into Barnard College and on the dean's list. You have no idea of the awards I won or for what. Then it was like a bomb exploded in my brain. All I had was pieces of thought and delusions. I had to learn how to read and write all over again. I am disciplined. Get it? Look how well I can write today. And I work hard at what little I can do. I don't only paint. Tonight I vacuumed half the apartment. I'm going to do the other half in the morning. If you think that is because I am lazy then you just don't know much about this disease. Tonight I also cooked two ears of corn and steamed asparagus. Again. Victory! And hard work, just like the vacuuming. My goal before bed is to wash the dishes. In preparation for this task I am visualizing myself doing it to get up the willpower and energy to indeed do it. I will succeed. I know I will. Because I want to. And when they are done, yes, I will be proud of myself.
I took two pictures for you today. The first is my painting before work on it. The second is my painting after today's work. Painting is very slow, disciplined work. There is no frenzy of creativity here. And frankly, there is very little advancement. I do a little every day and day after day my small efforts add up. Frequently, just like doing the dishes, I must visualize myself painting before I can actually find the energy and willpower to paint. Yes, I look forward to making art. But often I look forward to doing it because when I paint - I prove - that I exist. Again, this illness rots out your brain. I have to scratch and claw for every small task that defines the kind of person I am. It is true that what you do makes the person that you are. If I grow several beautiful, flowering, deep purple African violet plants, does that make me less sick? Yes. Yes it does. I'll have to take a picture of my African violet plants for you. They bring peace, love, and joy into our apartment. And that they live and thrive, this is proof of my control over my illness. God doesn't care if what you do is big or small. He only wants it to be good.
You aren't an anomaly. Probably most people think like you. So, how am I ever going to get you all to walk in my shoes?I still think you are a darling. But please, can you think of more creative ways to satisfy your curiosity. Was your question kind? I mean, was there another way you could have asked me about medication and why I paint and don't work? It would be nice if you assumed first that I wasn't a scam artist.
Oh, I'm not really mad. Mostly, I'm sad. Sad about everything I lost when I got sick. They were things that were inside of me. I lost invisible things. I didn't even know I had them until I had lost them."
Posted by dignifyme
at 9:02 PM EDT
Updated: Tuesday, 18 October 2005 9:14 PM EDT
