These are self-portraits by an artist descending into AD, referenced in Joan's latest blog. They're tragic and brilliant. The last 2 just about knocked my socks off. Art doesn't usually work for me as well as music, but the impact of the portraits in wordlessly describing what it must be like is stunning.
The Utermohlen paintings are intense and powerful. I've never seen his work before today, but it looks very familiar to this AD caregiver. When I look at snapshots of wife M in our scrapbook between 2002 and 2008 I see the same facial changes that Utermohlen was expressing.
So so sad. William expressed himself so well, I could see his hurt, pain and grieve and his emptiness in his latter paintings. But I have to stop in my tracks and say If our LOs feel that way and can't put it on a canvas, their frustration is no doubt going to come out in other forms, anger, rage, silence, and baffled. I am sadden by this so much but reminded of our LO's feelings,too. It is not just William in that picture, it is our LO. PAT
My wife's handwritten signature shows a progression like these paintings. In 2002 it was pretty script, signed briskly on checks and documents. Several days ago (2008) she signed a doctor's form with a barely legible scrawl, partly script and partly printed letters. I had to tell her several times what to write to make the signature.
This intensifies and reinforces a fear I have that my husband who cannot communicate verbally, understands and is aware of his surroundings much more than he can tell me. He cannot paint, or write, but he cries often when he is sad. I feel so powerless that I can't take away his pain but must endure with him his prison within himself. I have a difficult time understanding our path we must take for the rest of his life (pr mine) .
Once I asked him what was wrong (this was at the beginning of his illness) when he was crying. HE replied, "I'm trying to find myself".
Thank you for sharing the paintings with us....It is painful but illuminating to view this gifted man's sojourn into the depeths of his illness.
My wife was a superb painter, but had a short career as an illustrator with a medical publishing company. Her career was cut short by EOAD. Then all of her paintings were destroyed in a fire, so I have nothing now, and I grieve. She has no interest in painting now, and I grieve again.