Finding My Voice

Being heard through my new art series

Some time ago, I wrote about how my vocal chords were adversely affected by more than 20 years of teaching. After I eventually retired from teaching, I went through physical therapy sessions for my voice, which helped. But I’ve come to accept that it is forever compromised.

I’ve been thinking about voicelessness lately. Time and time again, I’ve been silenced – either by having my voice ignored or receiving abuse for voicing my opinion. In either case, I paid a heavy price.

Then came a breast cancer diagnosis that placed me face to face with mortality, terror, and loss of control. I was scared out-of-my-mind shitless that I was going to die young. I luckily had doctors, nurses, and other medical professionals who nurtured me through radiation, chemotherapy, and whatever other nasty medical happenings were awaiting me.

These treatments might have saved my life, and for this I am always grateful.

But being a cancer patient made me feel like I was losing control over my autonomy and my voice.

Because I was.

Before the first chemotherapy session began, my oncology nurse gave me a calendar of when I’d be coming in for treatments and bloodwork, as well as when I’d be seeing my oncologist. When I tried to bargain for a date that would be more convenient for me, she made it clear that I had no choice. I went to radiation treatment at the same time each day, as dictated by my radiation oncologist.

I felt my control over my own life ebbing away.

Granted, these medical professionals were all motivated by the same goal: to save my life. To this day, I am awestruck by a kind miracle: medical staff became part of my family.

And another kind miracle: years after treatment and a preventive double mastectomy and reconstruction, I have found my voice through art. As many of my readers know, I am working on a new oil paint series titled Breast Cancer, Female and Young, which displays tasteful nudes that tell a story on coping with this disease. The collection lends voice to the breast cancer experience. And through this collection – and through art in general – I have found healing and comfort.

This week I’ve been working diligently on the newest addition to this collection, titled Unfinished Business. As always, I like viewers to interpret the artwork as they see fit.

Unfinished Business

I repainted the background, further defined the subject’s earring, and tweaked areas on her body. The newest feature on this artwork is the subject’s shawl, which in my mind needed to be orange from the very beginning of starting this painting. I’m not sure why I decided on this color, but I think it works. The shawl looks good on the viewer’s left side, with an indication of fabric, but gets wonky on the viewer’s right side. It needs work, but I will continue to be patient.

Truth is, the painting will know when it’s completed. And once again, I find myself trusting in the process, knowing that the painting will evolve not entirely in my control.