Showing posts with label contemporary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contemporary. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore


“We love stories and we want the world to know what inspires us.”
- Brandon Oldenburg, co-director, Moonbot Studios
Clinicians working with patients and families in hospice and palliative settings understand the power of story.  At our roots is the value of authentic listening.  It bestows respect, meaning and importance to people who may feel at times that nothing is going their way.  Many of the blog posts in Pallimed: Arts and Humanities are really about the story behind the artistic expression. This exploration of the meaning in art correlates with authentic listening.  When you slow down and appreciate and discover art in all its forms you amplify the meaning and importance, even if just to you as an individual.

In this digital age, my children (now almost 7) love playing on my iPad, sometimes Angry Birds, sometimes some educational apps.  One particular beautiful app caught my eye last year, The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore (iOS only).  When I first saw it in the app store, it seemed so familiar to me, and after some exploration online I realized I had heard about this app from its earlier incarnation as a 2012 Oscar winning short film by the same name.

 

A quick diversion to the inspiration of the short film: The screenplay was penned by William Joyce, noted children’s author (The Guardians of Childhood) and directed by Joyce and Brandon Oldenburg. Both Joyce and Oldenburg are featured in the Oscars nomination clip. As Joyce shares in the ‘making of’ video, he created this story in the Fall of 2003 as he was going to visit the man who inspired it, William C. Morris, who was in poor health. Mr. Morris only lived a few short days after hearing the tale dedicated to him.  Mr. Morris was a strong proponent of children’s literature as noted by Michael Cart in The ALAN Review in 2003:
"He was that and more: he was also its heart. Bill loved good books; he loved their readers; he loved his work, and he loved HarperCollins. In return he was, himself, universally loved."
The story never was published and was not fully formulated until Joyce was able to experience Hurricane Katrina and its’ aftermath.  One can easily see how it inspires the early “Oz” like storm and resulting chaos and debris. Joyce received a grant to interview people affected by Katrina and describes the impact of seeing the blank stares on people’s faces which left a heavy impression. As strong evidence of the human spirit, Joyce was able to see their faces come to life as they shared their personal stories with him.   Co-director Brandenburg echoed the motivation for the project: “the curative power of story and that it can change lives”


Now back to the app and my kids...


The app description reinforced my ‘good parent’ motivations: ‘a story of people who devote their lives to books and books who return the favor.’  After a short download, my son and daughter proceeded to walk through the hybrid app/book.  The story begins with Mr. Morris Lessmore reading scores of books when a storm blows him and all his books away.  The muted earth tones of New Orleans architecture give way to a bleak gray landscape littered with debris and empty books.  In the background of this silent film, “Pop Goes the Weasel” repeats, but uses many different themes and tempos to reflect the myriad of moods depicted in the action: sorrow, joy, disillusionment, whimsy, hope.  Morris eventually comes to a library where the inhabitants are books who take him in, share stories, and enable him to spread the love of books to others.

SPOILERS AHEAD and A NOTE ON COPYRIGHT

If you have not watched the film ($3 iTunes), read the book (less than $15), or used the app ($5 iOS), I highly encourage you to purchase at least one of them and support the artists who made it.  You could find the film on YouTube from copyright violators, but if you do, I hope you purchase it anyway after you see how wonderful it is.
SERIOUSLY....

THERE ARE SPOILERS AHEAD...
ENJOY IT UNENCUMBERED BY THE FOLLOWING KNOWLEDGE...
OK...YOU WERE WARNED.


Well, as I sat playing through the app with my children, I began to sense things were going to get more emotionally heavy at the end.  Mr. Morris works with these books and barely interacts with any other humans, he begins to age, and the seasons change.

I found the scene where he repairs a book in a surgical amphitheater particularly moving when taken in a palliative context.  The book old book flat lines on the EKG and can only be revived once he is read by Morris.  What an amazing allegory depicting how reading someone’s story actually brings them to life?

A short cameo of honor is also given to author Colleen Salley, who died in 2008.  You see her as the first woman Morris gives a book to.  Salley was a strong supporter of children’s literature who also understood why stories matter.  
“She believed in the power of story to change a life, and I feel like she needed to be in this short as well” - Joyce
At the end of the short, Morris completes his book, presumably his biography.  As he sets off to say goodbye to the books and leave the library, the books surround him in a transformational cocoon, and in a moment appears his younger self. Morris then jets through the sky, led by a squadron of flying books much the same way as the young woman encountered early in Morris’ post-storm journey.  At the closing scene we see Morris in a picture on the wall along with the flying book lady and a few other off-screen characters.

So as I watched this with my kids, I asked them what happened to Mr. Morris.  They floored me in saying, “He died,” as though it were a simple matter of fact.  I was expecting them to not pick up on the symbolism of death, but they saw it pretty straight forward.  They were a little sad at the end, but were eager to go through the app again.  On the second time through they asked me if the flying book lady was also dead.  After multiple viewings, I am not sure if this post-storm world is real life, a limbo, or an imagining of heaven. It was a fascinating conversation with my kids, and one that I imagine countless others may have had with their families after watching this amazing short.  

Share this one with your team, your family and share your thoughts with us in the comments below.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013 by Christian Sinclair · 7

Monday, May 7, 2012

Annie Tempest

Annie Tempest is a British cartoonist by trade, the author of  Tottering-by-Gently, a strip that runs in the UK magazine Country Life.  Most recently, however, she's moved into sculpting and had an exhibition in London this past month called "Play as Cast"

Communication
Her sculpting, like so many other artists, became a way to deal with the grief of the death of her son.  Freddy Tempest McConnel died last May, at the age of 18, of a heroin overdose. Annie said in an interview with Louette Harding of The Daily Mail,  "That's how I've been dealing with it. I haven't seen therapists; it's sculpting that has kept me going. Because it wasn't just on 28 May and afterwards; before that, we'd been through the highs and lows of recovery and relapse...It's been hope, crash, hope, crash - heights as well as depths... my sculpture has helped me through."

How many of our patients and families use those same terms dealing with terminal illness? "Hope, crash, hope, crash..." they talk about the roller coaster they're on, even in the last days.

Anguish
 One piece that is not on display is something she did right before he died and about which she had her last conversation with her son.  She says of the piece, "A week before Freddy's death, I knew in my heart he was gone.." She describes it as, "Two figures, fighting to hold on and to let go. It's a goodbye...It looks like a fight, but it's also a hug...It's two adults hugging and pushing. I was a primal scream." She actually sent her son a picture of the piece and his emailed reply to that was her last communication with him, he wrote "Mum, I absolutely understand and love your sculpture, I'm sorry. I so want to beat this. Love, Fred."
Solace and Seclusion

Although I haven't seen the piece, I think this too would be something our patient's families would resonate with.  There is a pushing and pulling when a loved one dies; we want them to stay but don't want them to suffer - what a great visual of a hug/push.

Each of the pieces communicates so well with the use of three dimensional space. I encourage you to see all of the images from the gallery at this link.


As an aside. Freddy was an aspiring musician, and tragically one of the songs he wrote, "Will You Remember Me" is about an early death. You can listen to this and other songs at http://soundcloud.com/user7770177


To read more from the interview with Louette Harding go here

Monday, May 7, 2012 by Amy Clarkson · 0

Monday, March 19, 2012

Araya Rasdjarmrearnsook

Araya Rasdjarmrearnsook is an art teacher and one of Thailand's' foremost female artists.  She had her first solo show in New York last month with a video exhibition showing historic art history pieces from western culture to rural and religious people in Thailand in an exhibit titled "Two Planets/ Village and Elsewhere"

However, for me, it is her previous work I wanted to touch on for this post.  Araya first made headlines in the US with an group exhibit in 1996. More controversy came in late 1990's and early 2000's when her exhibits began incorporating corpses.

In works such as "The Class II" Araya is seen on video lecturing a classroom of corpses. The topic for this lifeless class? Death.  You'll see her ask the dead bodies, "Did you die in autumn?"  You can see this video on YouTube here. I was struck by the seriousness of her tone as she interacts with the class on a topic they surely must know.




 In "Conversations I, II and III" she meanders through a room of corpses humming.  In "This is Our Creations" she actually lies down next to the bodies and is heard saying, "I came here to know you, lying here motionless. Once my father sent me a postcard from very far away. Its sentence: only a still pond can reflect the starts."

My first thought was, what experiences has this woman had with death that has led her to express herself in this way? I had to do much searching to find the answer, but in an interview in 2005 with Oliver Benjamin, she told her story.

Her father was a physician, and at the age of 3, as her mother labored in childbirth with her father as physician, her mother died.  A week later the young sister born also died. In the following 3 years she lost a step sister aged 18 months, her grandmother and great grandmother. As she said in her interview, "From this reason, I guess, I have been interested in examining death"

When you look back, even to her etching "The Dream of Mother" in 1990,  you can see the processing of her life events.

Sometime in there, her father then died of cancer. In response, new pieces such as "The Dinner with Cancer I" and "Th Dinner with Cancer II" were done.

Araya has used art as a way to deal with death. Specifically in her words, "I choose art as process of thought for the meaning of death".  Araya spoke of that meaning in an interview with Brian Curtin in 2007 saying "In reality, life and death should not be understood as opposites. People deal with death by trying to hide it. They hide death behind ritual or hope to prevent it with medicine. I want people to have more imagination and confront reality!"

In the interview with Oliver Benjamin in 2005 she concluded talking about the topic with, "I'm tired of death! May be too much."  That's the goal isn't it? To work with our patients and families to process through it? For now the artist does seem done with death, as her art has moved on to exploration of different ideas.

Whether you are repelled or connected to Araya's work with death, it's what I love about art - a vehicle to express ideas which then stimulate the viewers mind.

To see works listed up until 2002 visit this site. For those 2002 and on visit here.


Oliver Benjamin interview published in Citylife magazine Oct. 2005
Brian Curtin interview published in Art Signal Oct. 2007
Works in order of appearance "Conversation I" (2005),  "The Dream of Mother" (1990) and "The Dinner with Cancer I" (1993)

Monday, March 19, 2012 by Amy Clarkson · 0

Monday, January 30, 2012

The Richard Harris Collection

Art collector Richard Harris, while visiting an art fair in 2001 in the Netherlands about the inevitability of death, had an epiphany of sorts. Why not start collecting art that deals with death as its theme? More than a decade later Harris now owns over 1500 pieces of art and artifacts that deal with the subject of death.  I think Harris should be an honorary pallimed member, since our mission has been to explore all things art and humanities, related to the subject of death.

Harris's art works are really a Memento Mori or "remember you will die" collection. The representation of death is that of a skeleton, rather than a depiction of the process of dying itself. The symbolism still invites the viewer to examine death and contemplate mortality, while still being somewhat removed.  Harris, age 74, told an interviewer that the collection also provides him with inspiration, he said that, "before I do die, before death does come to me...I should put together something of an overall view of death from my perspective."

The collection spans over 6,000 years in time, with historical as well as contemporary works. There are artifacts and photographs and cultural materials all exploring death. Starting January 28 and running through July 8 some of Harris's massive collection will be displayed at the Chicago Cultural Center in an exhibit entitled, "Morbid Curiosity: The Richard Harris Collection"

To read more about the exhibit and learn more about Richard Harris visit the Chicago Cultural Center.  To see a few more images of his collection go here.

 All images are part of the Richard Harris Collection. 

Monday, January 30, 2012 by Amy Clarkson · 1

Monday, August 22, 2011

A Book About Death

Artist Ray Johnson is mainly regarded as a correspondence artist, having founded something called the The New York Correspondence School, which basically is an ever changing group of people who send each other art work through the mail.

During 1963-65 Johnson produced 12 unbound pages of mail art for something called "A Book About Death". He sent these one page essays about death to other artists in the correspondence school. Johnson committed suicide in 1995 and in an effort to commemorate him the art project "A Book About Death" was started.
In 2009 artist Mathew Rose, taking inspiration from Johnson's death themed art pages, organized a massive exhibition of similar mail art.  The call went out to artists all across the world to submit postcards on the theme "A Book About Death".  The artists were to create 500 postcard copies of their pieces and mail them to the gallery of the exhibition.  During the show, which was held in September 2009, visitors could then collect postcards from the hundreds of artists and take the postcards home to create their own unique book about death.

Since the original ABAD show, there have no been 23 installments, as the project continues to move around the world with new additions continually.  Each ABAD exhibit is slightly different, some like the recent exhibit in May at the Willo North Gallery in Phoenix, Arizona called for postcards with a memento accompanying it.


The most recent ABAD project is open now, July 31- Sept 2 at the Second Avenue Firehouse Gallery in Long Island.  This unique exhibit is entitled "A Book About Death: The Ties That Bind".  The curator of the event LuAnn T. Palazzo asked artists to submit larger works on pages, one copy to be displayed on the wall for the exhibit and the other to be bound in a book on display during the show.


I've enjoyed browsing the images for the different shows, a few which are included here.  The interpretations on death are as diverse as they come.  Some of the pieces are accompanied by poems, like this piece below with image on one side, and the poem on the back of the post card.

To see the images yourself on a virtual wall go here. To scroll the images on a blog page you can visit the original ABAD site were each picture is posted as a blog entry here

I wonder if there would be a place to do some collage work as a self care session for hospice and palliative care in this way, or perhaps a work shop at a national convention resulting in a Hospice and Palliative Medicine edition to A Book About Death?

Art work credits from top to bottom:
Steve Dalachinsky
Laura Sharp Wilson
"The Call" Sophia Oldsman
"Sustenance" Kim Triedman

Monday, August 22, 2011 by Amy Clarkson · 1

Monday, June 6, 2011

"Recent Works" of Fereydoun Ave

This post topic came to me thanks to my Google alerts (a way you can get email updates on your choice of topic). It's a great way to get updates on topics you are interested in without having to periodically Google them.

Fereydoun Ave, a modern Iranian artist recently displayed his newest works, entitled "Recent Works" at the Khak Gallery in Tehran. Ave's work before this had included collages that merge the figures of Iranian wrestlers with ancient reliefs of Persian kings and warriors. He had focused a lot on ancient masculine figures. So what does this have to do with palliative care, you may ask?

This show marks a departure from Ave's earlier work. This show illustrates his own personal history after surviving a long illness. I couldn't find exactly what his long illness was (the doctor in me sooo wanted to know). I only found that this work is meant to tell that story.

Ave's latest show includes 11 mixed media pieces and 7 sculptures. "Each of the mixed-media works begins with haphazard schemas and splashes of watercolor. The artist then prints familiar snapshots of daily life. Finally he over-paints them with new watercolor splashes." His sculptures have an archaeological feel to them.

I leave the interpretation of modern art up to the reader. Ave doesn't provide any explanation for each piece. His different pieces show flowers, a world map with superimposed flowers, a photo of a chair by a window with blinds, a chalice, and a family portrait. I would be interested to know what you think.

More of Ave's work can be seen here at the Khak Gallery website.

Monday, June 6, 2011 by Amber Wollesen, MD · 1

Monday, February 28, 2011

The Julie Project

In 1993, photographer Darcy Padilla met 19 year old Julie. At the time, Julie was living with her boyfriend Jack in a hotel with their 8 day old daughter. Both Julie and Jack were HIV positive. Through the next 18 years, Padilla photographed the life of Julie. The Julie Project is a collection of these photographs with some documents taken from Julie's life. Padilla intermittently narrates the photos with her experiences and conversations with Julie.

After leaving the abusive relationship she had with Jack, Julie wandered from hotel to hotel with her daughter Rachel. She had another child Tommy and lived in a shelter for some time. She eventually lost custody of both of her children when her live in boyfriend abused them. She had two more children who were taken away due to her testing positive for opiates.

In 2005 Julie was contacted by family who had been looking for her for years and she moved to Alaska. Her illness continued to progress and she had to be hospitalized.

In 2008, Julie gave birth to a fifth child, Elyssa, who she was allowed to keep custody of. She and her boyfriend Jason lived in a house with no running water or electricity.

Over the next two years, Julie's health worsened. She enrolled in hospice on Sept 7 and died Sept 27, 2010.

Through her 18 year photo documentary, Padilla wasn't just a casual observer to Julie's life. She became a close friend and spent a lot of time with her at the end of her life. Her photos are dramatic and at times gruesome and depressing. But they are a very real look at living in poverty with a life limiting illness. Below is a statement by Padilla about what motivated the Julie Project:

My initial motivation for Julie’s story was to document one woman’s struggle, to live with poverty and AIDS.

After losing custody of Rachael, Tommy, Jordan, Ryan and Jason Jr., it made me think
about them. I wondered if Julie’s children would understand the depths of her poverty, the decision of their mother to give them up for adoption.

Julie’s children are going to be adults someday. Who are they going to ask about what happened? I want to be able to tell them her story in case Julie is not alive.

I do not think Julie has much time left.

The purpose of the project is to take the disparate arguments about welfare, poverty,
family rights, AIDS, drug and sexual abuse by looking at one person’s life, Julie.

My hopes for the project is not to just tell her story for us to understand but for
Rachael, Tommy, Jordan, Ryan, Zach, and Elyssa to hear, someday.

Julie’s story matters and should make a difference to us the viewer in our understanding of the fractured world that many poor people struggle to exist in.

As a friend said, "I realize this type of story plays out constantly in the world for
many, many families. The pieces slip away or no one cares to remember the details. We see the summation of cause and effect in a homeless face on the street every day. It can be too complicated, uncomfortable and painful to ask why."

I hope you can’t stop thinking about Julie’s story, I hope it makes you feel.
I hope it makes you look at the world differently.

Thanks to Lyle for sending me this link.

Monday, February 28, 2011 by Amber Wollesen, MD · 4

Monday, February 21, 2011

Okemah by The Iguanas

This is a guest post from Eric Holmstrom. (I wasn't able to find a full version of the song to post but you can listen to a sample here.) I had never heard this song before Eric emailed me. It now has an honored position on my playlist. Thanks Eric! And thanks to everyone who sends us great posting ideas.

Rock/Swamp Rock/Americana/Chicano --- that's how ReverbNation categorizes the music of the Iguanas. They possess what is described as a "broad palette of styles ranging from crunchy, edgy rockers; funky soul strutters and succulent West Coast R & B to trad conjunto; dreamy cruisers and hard-boppin', conga-powered jazz supported by a myriad of Latin beats." All of this and more is on their last CD - If You Should Ever Fall On Hard Times.
In the midst of its mélange of word and sounds the impressionistic Okemah stood out, catching the ear and interest of this history major and palliative care chaplain with images and impressions that led to a second listen and then, a third.
Okemah? Choctaw overalls, sunset sounds? Cottonwoods, cotton mouth? Frozen hills of Chosin? That old robed Filipino? Smelling the old muddy creek, seven days a week. "Please release me, now, baby let me go." The medicine is kicking in, and I'm dreaming of chemo once again.
Rod Hodges, the Iguana's songwriter, guitarist/accordionist wrote the words to Okemah at a point where his father's death and the drowning of New Orleans were going on simultaneously. "When Katrina hit, my father was dying of cancer, right at the same time," he says, "So it was a really rough time for me. That's pretty much a description of my experience in the hospital with him, I was describing feelings and in some instances, literal things I heard or saw during that time." (iguanas.com)
Evocative and haunting, Hodge's words conjured up his father's time of dying. You hear his father's march on bloody frostbitten feet in the hills above the Chosin reservoir, living to live and then die another day. You see the Filipino, a veteran floor mate in that washed out faded robe on the VA oncology floor. You wonder where you do go when the meds kick in and chemo dreams take you down again?
Where do you go when your father and your city is dying? Where do you go when all you can do is go with him? Okemah's haunting music and its lyrics are Rod Hughes' answer.

OKEMAH
Black bottle thumping across my back,
dragging a twelve foot cotton sack.
Old Filipino in a hospital robe, singing please release me, baby let me go,
singing please release me, baby let me go.
And the medicine is kicking in,
and I'm dreaming of old chemo once again.
And the medicine is kicking in,
dreaming of, old chemo once again.
I can still smell that muddy creek,
Oklahoma sun, seven days a week.
Cottonwoods and cotton mouth,
Choctaw overalls and sunset sounds.
Frozen hills of Chosin, deep in my soul,
Okemah to Korea, they call it age of rock and roll.
And the medicine is kicking in........
veholmstrom@verizon.net (Eric Holmstrom, D.Min. BCC)

Monday, February 21, 2011 by Amber Wollesen, MD · 1

Monday, December 27, 2010

Gallery: "Quality of life"

This is another installment to our Gallery Series. As a reminder, I generally pick something related to palliative medicine and then begin an online hunt to find art work and poetry with this word or phrase in the title.  Hopefully this becomes a stepping point for further thought and exploration.

All art work is copyrighted to the artist (often only a screen name is known), and listed in sequential order at the end. For further Gallery posts, links are provided for convenience at the bottom.

Today's Gallery theme is "Quality of Life", so picked secondary to this phrase's essential part in the definition of palliative care.

The definition of QOL from thefreedictionary.com:
Quality of life (n): Your personal satisfaction (or dissatisfaction) with the cultural or intellectual conditions under which you live (as distinct from material comfort).


"Quality of Life" copyright Harley.


Pain roils within me, without
Despair assails me, and doubt
What is the use of all this striving for survival?
What is the quality of this persistent life?
A Fleshy form twisted into tangled knots
And mind cramped with bitter regret
The sun shines, but darkness covers me with futility
Soul stripped to the bone
Thousand-yard stare fixed on far horizon
Sane men call me mad




"Quality Of Life - Poem" (Aug. 2000) by A.K. Whitehead


I have lived a life-- or two,
depending where the line is drawn.
What has been accomplished
is, as if it were, undone,
and what remains undone 
is the heel that kicks the spur. 
Life, time, accomplishment
define each other...
and their exclusions
rising like pale mountain ranges
whose heights perceptibly increase
with their proximity

Finally a poem read by the author herself.  This is "Quality of Life" by poet Harryette Mullen. It is a part of her 5th collection, the book entitled Sleeping with the Dictionary (2002)



Art work displayed:
"Quality of Life" (2010) Sandy Brooke
"Quality of Life" (2007) spotandbones
"Quality of Life Painting" (2007) Patrick Sheridan

Past gallery posts: "Itch", "Dysphoria","Last Breath", "Pain", "Afterlife", "Restless","Stillness" and "Grief"

Monday, December 27, 2010 by Amy Clarkson · 4

Monday, October 18, 2010

"Before I die, I want to...."


I stumbled across a gem of a website this week. "Before I die, I want to...." is the brain child of
photographers/artists KS Rives and Nicole Kenney. Both started the project partly with the
news that Polaroid would be discontinuing products, allowing a symbolic death of this
iconic product.

However it goes deeper than this. In contemplating a tool used by the medical community called "safety contracts" for suicidal individuals, they were struck by the power of verbal commitment. The simple notion of someone being asked to promise not to harm themselves until help comes, etc, with the verbal agreement from the individual has been shown to actually work.If there is power in this verbal connection, what if someone made a verbal commitment as they contemplated death, about something they hoped to achieve? Would the act of

documentation make any difference they mused?


Thus a project was born, using the immediate art of a Polaroid camera with no "re-do's" and a person's own words/handwriting outlining what it is they want to do before they die.


As you can imagine there is much to be examined in terms of values as related to age, culture and life experiences.


The two have traveled internationally posing this question and have even visited a hospice in NY to ask those closer to death about their wishes/hopes.



All in all they've captured over 1,200 photos. They have plans in the future to attempt contact with each individual to see if they've achieved their goal and also to ask for a narrative once they have.

The website has the photos divided by location; US, India and Hospice. There are also interesting insights the photographers have from their experience as the "documentarians". I enjoyed reading their observations as they contemplate cultural differences, including Americans often unease of the question, as it brings up dying.



The project is ongoing and they even accept Polaroid's taken from others - with instructions on the website how you can submit your own "Before I die, I want to..." Polaroid.

I hope you can take some time to browse the photos, making your
own insights on what you see. They mention they've yet to find someone who has said "nothing", it seems we can all think of something we want to do before we die.

What would your caption say?

All images are copyrighted 2008-2010 to Nicole Kenney + KS Rives

The translation from the final photo taken in India reads "I want to make a pilgrimage to Mecca"

Monday, October 18, 2010 by Amy Clarkson · 3

Monday, October 4, 2010

Gallery: "Itch"


This is a continuation of the Gallery series of different artworks that roughly have a theme of something we encounter in Palliative Medicine. This Gallery addition is on "Itch"; unfortunately I couldn't find any pieces entitled "Pruritis". The pieces are all copyrighted to the artist and listed in sequential order at the end of the post.

For links to other issues of the Gallery series see below, they are included for your convenience.

The definition of itch (n):
1. An irritating skin sensation causing the desire to scratch.
2. Any various skin disorders, such as scabies, marked by intense irritation and itching.
3. A restless desire or craving for something


"Unscratchable Itch" by Shel Siverstein

There is a spot that you can't scratch
Right between your shoulder blades,
Like an egg that just won't hatch
Here you set and there it stays.
Turn and squirm and try to reach it,
Twist you neck and bend you back,
Hear your elbows creak and crack,
Stretch you fingers, now you bet it's
Going to reach- no that won't get it-
Hold your breath and stretch and pray,
Only just an inch away,
Worse than a sunbeam you can't catch
Is the one spot that
You can't scratch.





There's a place
that I cannot reach
it moves like an itch
down my back
and I know
if I could only stretch
far enough
to touch it
I would have
the most exquisite feeling
like a cold glass
of lemonade
the ice cubes
dancing like little fairies
in the glass
like the smell of the ocean
the salt hanging heavy
in the morning rain
but
like all explorers
it's never far enough.


Artwork displayed:

Past gallery posts: "Dysphoria","Last Breath", "Pain", "Afterlife", "Restless","Stillness" and"Grief"

Monday, October 4, 2010 by Amy Clarkson · 0

Monday, September 13, 2010

Dead by They Might Be Giants

I found this song when I was doing research on strange songs people wanted to have at their funerals. I don't know if it's funeral worthy but it is an interesting song. Dead by They Might Be Giants came out on their album Flood in 1990. Dead, like many of their songs is... quirky. (The song is below and you can see the lyrics at the end of the post.)



My initial thought was that it is sung from the point of view of a person who died young or wasn't ready to die-"Accidently taken off the shelf before the date stamped on myself". (Reincarnated as a bag of groceries?) He expresses a lot of regrets about the things he won't ever get to do and wonders how the event (his death) was taken.

After listening to the song a couple times, I changed my view. Maybe it's not someone physically dead but someone who just feels that way. Or maybe he is dead and just lived a life very similar to being dead. "Now it's over I'm dead and I haven't done anything that I want or, I'm still alive and there's nothing I want to do"


They Might Be Giants don't really give a lot of clues as to what they were thinking with their songs. They have on occasion said that some of their songs really don't have a deeper meaning (or even a meaning) to the lyrics but this song seems like it does. Whether they speak of a physical death or more of a spiritual one is open to interpretation.

Dead

I returned a bag of groceries
Accidently taken off the shelf
Before the expiration date
I came back as a bag of groceries
Accidently taken off the shelf
Before the date stamped on myself

Did a large procession wave their (Did a)
Torches as my head fell in the basket, (large pro-)
And was everybody dancing on the casket? (cession dance?)

Now it's over I'm dead and I haven't done anything that I want (now it's over)
Or, I'm still alive and there's nothing I want to do

I will never say the word
"Procrastinate" again; I'll never
See myself in the mirror with my eyes closed
I didn't apologize for
When I was eight and I made my younger brother
Have to be my personal slave

Did a large procession wave their (Did a)
Torches as my head fell in the basket, (large pro-)
And was everybody dancing on the casket? (cession dance?)

Now it's over I'm dead and I haven't done anything that I want (now it's over)
Or, I'm still alive and there's nothing I want to do

(So) So I won't
(Sit) sit at home
(And) anymore
(And) and you won't
(And) see my head in
(And) the window
(And) and I won't
(And) be around
(And) ever anymore
(And) and I'll be up there on the wall at the store

I returned a bag of groceries
Accidently taken off the shelf
Before the expiration date
I came back as a bag of groceries
Accidently taken off the shelf
Before the date stamped on myself

Did a large procession wave their (Did a)
Torches as my head fell in the basket, (large pro-)
And was everybody dancing on the casket? (cession dance?)

Now it's over I'm dead and I haven't done anything that I want (now it's over)
Or, I'm still alive and there's nothing I want to do

Now it's over I'm dead and I haven't done anything that I want (now it's over)
Or, I'm still alive and there's nothing I want to do

Monday, September 13, 2010 by Amber Wollesen, MD · 2

Monday, September 6, 2010

Justin Roberts "Sand Castle" (2006)

I know Christian has mentioned before having ah-ha moments when listening to songs and finally really "hearing" the lyrics. This happened to me this week as I had the children's music writer/singer Justin Roberts on. On one of the slower songs on his album "Meltdown" (2006) I suddenly heard words that I realized were talking about dying.


Justin Roberts is known as a Children's Indie Rock singer/songwriter. While trying to make it in the Indie Rock Adult world with a group called 'Pimentos for Gus' in the 1990's, he took a day job in a preschool. Taking his guitar to entertain the kids, he began writing songs for them and produced his first album "Great Big Sun" (1997). Still unsure of his path, he headed to the University of Chicago to pursue a Ph.D. in religious studies. The music writing continued and was getting more attention than his studies, soon turning Roberts into a full fledged rocker with 7 albums released to date.

Many interviewers denote that Justin's music is often adored by adults as well as kids. Themes range from milestones such as getting glasses and picture day at school, to family dynamics of moving and sibling relationships with the song my kids love, 'My brother did it'.

Robert's isn't afraid to tackle the tough subjects either, as in 'Sand Castle' the song I was listening to with my kids. He wrote this song for a friend who lost his Mom. The music is mellow and slow and has a sorrow about the melody. In fact, I think it was this sense of sadness that made me stop to hear what the words were saying. The imagery is subtle, telling about this child and father out at the beach remembering and saying goodbye to the child's mom. The last lines "She slipped through our hands/Just like a balloon returns to the sky/So Dad and I/Knew you’d be somewhere out in the sea/In a million sandcastles to be"

I think kids are a unique population when it comes to dealing with death and loss, so to have stumbled across another possible resource was a delight. I'd be interested if anyone knows of other children's music that deals with death?

I've posted the song below to listen to with the lyrics here. For email/rss subscribers you may need to head to the original post site to hear the song (Scroll to the bottom of the page)

Sand Castle (2006)
Dad and me went out to the sea
Just to build it, just to build it
We dug our hands down in the sand
Then we filled it, then we filled it

Till you were just a sandcastle
When we watched you in front of those waves
That was like a real hassle
But you were beautiful and brave
You stood like a sandcastle
And I’ll never forget that day
I’ll never forget that day

We sang ba ba ba…

Dad and I heard planes in the sky
Engines roaring, engines roaring
We built a bridge and castles so high
They were soaring, they were soaring

Till you were just a sandcastle
When we watched you in front of those waves
That was like a real hassle
But you were beautiful and brave
You stood like a sandcastle
And I’ll never forget that day
I’ll never forget that day

We sang ba ba ba…

We didn’t want you to go
We just thought you should know
She slipped through our hands
Just like a balloon returns to the sky
So Dad and I
Knew you’d be somewhere out in the sea
In a million sandcastles to be

We sang ba ba ba…

Justin Roberts -web- -Facebook- -Twitter @MusicianJustin- -YouTube-

Monday, September 6, 2010 by Amy Clarkson · 2

Monday, July 26, 2010

Pablo Picasso: Self-portrait Facing Death (1972)

Does anyone not know the name Picasso? Based on sales of his works at auctions, he holds the title of top ranked artist according to the Art Market Trends report. He was also a prolific artist with estimates of 50,000 works of art producedin his lifetime. (This includes paintings, drawings, sculptuers, etc).

Pablo Picasso worked up until the day he died at age 91; literally painting till 3 am on Sunday, April 8th, which was just hours before his death.


His last well known self-portriat was done a little less than a year before his death, entitled Self Portrait Facing Death (June 30, 1972).


The piece is done with crayon on paper, and took several months to complete. A friend, Pierre Daix, tells of his memory of the piece on a visit to Picasso, "[Picasso] held the drawing beside his face to show that the expression of fear was a contrivance." Then on another visit 3 months later, Pierre recalled that the harsh colored lines were even deeper, and Pierre writes, "He did not blink. I had the sudden impression that he was staring his own death in the face, like a good Spaniard"

There is much comentary about this piece. People talk about the fear of death Picasso had and how terrified his eyes look. They comment on the deep lines of age, and the work symbolizing Picasso's confrontation of death.

Interestingly, as I researched this post I found a complete catolgue of Picasso's works, in sequential order. It appears that just days prior and days after the piece above, he did several other self portraits.


I'm placing them in order, and wonder if there is a comment in the progression, I certainly feel there is a change with each. Below, copyright Estate of Pablo Picasso/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, are Self Portrait (June 28, 1972), Self Portrait (July 2, 1972), and Self Portrait (July 3, 1972)



























In all his works through the next months before his death, I saw no further self portraits, these above were done in a burst, as if when done with these, he was done contemplating self and death.

Picasso's death itself was sudden, waking on the morning of the 8th with an inabilty to get out of bed, calling for his wife, and dying 10 mins later. His cause of death was likely a heart attack with complications from heart failure.

I am happy to have stummbled upon the other portraits, giving us different glimpses of the idea of himself. Having such different works done in such a short time, gives testament to the complexity of all of our own self concepts. Just as I see the feelings of chaos, fear and acceptance in the works above, my own patients contemplating death can bounce from chaos, fear and acceptance sometimes in the span of a few hours.


References and more reading on the title piece:

http://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/picasso/home/ed/8works/8works_8

http://www.artst.org/picasso/PabloPicasso-Self-Portrait-1972.jpg.html


*And special thanks to Karen Faught for alerting me to this piece

Monday, July 26, 2010 by Amy Clarkson · 8