Time Evaporates.
I'm back in Calgary, Alberta for a few weeks before I head out on the road with "This is CANCER". It looks like a very busy summer ahead, and it's nice to have the time here to gather myself and get ready for the Fringe Festival tour.
Being essentially homeless for the last year has been a lesson in 'giving in' - succumbing to the forces of the universe and saying "yes".
The latest project, "The Way I See It: Portraits and Paintings" is a perfect example...
Years ago, when my father was sick, I began to think about his influence on my life.
When I was diagnosed with bi-lateral retinoblastoma as a baby (cancer on the retina's of both of my eyes), the treatment at that time was to remove the affected eyes. My father stepped in at that point and requested that another treatment be found.
My right eye had too many tumors to be saved (it was removed and I was to wear a prosthesis for the rest of my life), but the left eye had only three small tumors. So, I was flown to Toronto and had radiation treatment performed on the tumors in my left eye. The treatment left me with heavy scar-tissue, and later I developed a cataract in the eye which was treated when I was around 4 or 5 yrs old.
The remaining vision is quite heavily impaired; I have tunnel-vision, I wear a HEAVY prescription bi-focal lens (+12), I have a secondary cataract developing which gives everything I look at a halo or aura, I have heavy vitreous floaters which cover my entire field of vision, and I have extreme light-sensitivity. If I quickly look from one object to another, there is a ripple effect which can be quite startling. Since this is all I've ever known I have managed to fake being fully sighted, and un-impaired for most of my life. I've often had people tell me that they would never had known there was anything wrong with my eyesight, other than the fact that the radiation did bone-damage, and my eyes appear "unmatched" (nice way of saying "fucked").
I notice changes in my vision as the years go along. My sensitivity to light has increased, the floaters have increased, my prescription for reading and seeing things up close has increased, and my ability to see things at a distance has diminished.
However...
My visual acuity (with a lens and at the right distance) is not too bad.
I can read print (with a lens)
I can see color.
I can see shapes.
I can see shadows
I can see sun-rises and sun-sets.
I have seen the faces of my family and friends. I have seen the Acropolis in Greece, the Globe Theatre in London, and Monet's Water Lilies at the Museum of Modern Art in New York among many, many other beautiful, breath-taking things in this world
I would have seen none of these things, had it not been for my father stepping in and saving my eyesight. He was, and is, my hero.
When Dad was sick, I had an impulse to pay tribute to him. I thought that if maybe I could paint him as I saw him, so that he could see what he had given me, it would testament to his life. I was on the road at the time, and began practicing by painting still-life, landscapes, and portraits of my friends. I found a real joy and a great sense of peace in this work. I was also glad to explore how it is that I see, as I had struggled for so long to fake being sighted, that it was a strange thing to actually give in to what it was that I was actually seeing....
Dad passed away before I could paint his portrait. And, really - the last time I saw him, the Cancer had taken so much of him and added so many years, that I'm sure he would not have been in the slightest bit comfortable.
April, 2011:
I was here in Calgary doing Rebecca Northan's "Kung Fu Panties" (Ground Zero Theatre/Hit and Myth Productions) and I had decided to get a space and run a Clown/Improv Workshop. I was hoping to use some of the training I had received from John Turner and Mike Kennard (Mump and Smoot) and get a tidy little class together. Jamie Tognazzini suggested that I speak to Dean Bareham at the Green Fools'. We stopped by his space - and I fell instantly in love with it. It's an old Church near the Talisman Centre on a near-empty block surrounded by brand-new condo developments. You can practically smell the 75-yr. mortgages, inflated interest-rates, and impending coronaries in the neighborhood. This Church is probably next on the list to be knocked down in order to put up more much-needed condo's. Dean offered it to me to run my class, and I was ecstatic.
I began putting the word out about the class.
Day one, and I had one student: my old college-friend Brandon Harris. (My mother had asked if she could take the class as well, but I thought that might be a bit weird). I had been aching to get back to painting for some time, and it dawned on me that I now had a space and, perhaps, a willing subject.
Brandon and I took a trip over to Inglewood art-supplies and I picked up some canvasses and began the day by doing his portrait. He is one of the most supportive and positive people I have ever met, and from that sitting I began this project in ernest. The Harborfront Centre in Toronto posted an open call for submissions for their gallery spaces, which was just the incentive I needed to push the project into the next stage.
The Clown class was officially cancelled, and I began asking friends and family if they would agree to come and sit for a few hours while I painted their portrait...I would use this as an opportunity to tackle a question I have been asked so many times in my life: "how do you see?". I would try to capture the cataract, the floaters, the tunnel vision, the halo's... everything in the paint and on the canvass.
It's been a most intriguing ride so far... and it continues.
I've just finished #80 and showing no signs of stopping. I'm a bit tired, but only in my body. Off to bed, 'cuz I've booked a full day tomorrow.
