Drawing as a Vital Act
When I was putting the book together a friend asked me, “Why did you draw so much?” as she saw piles of over 100 Sennelier drawing pads stacked one on top of eachother in my studio in South India.
The thing is, that I never planned to draw. I was a photographer before this all happened and I had an affinity with the medium of photography. The camera was an extension of myself and I had this connection with people that was extremely natural, and you could see this in each portrait I took.
Photography requires movement. I knew that from a bed, the possibilities of photographing were going to be very limited and as a part of my treatment I was going to be stuck in bed, isolated in a radiation room, undergoing treatment for 20 minutes every hour/ 24 hours a day / 7 days, I knew I needed an alternative to channel my creativity.
Part of my preparation for radiation treatment at Institut Marie Curie in Paris was a visit to an art store where I bought white Italian clay, acrylic paints, pencils, drawing pads, fimo and sennelier oil pastels. I packed these into my bag for my 7 day hospital stay. I also added a small camera, some movies, 2 books, crochet hooks and wool and my notebook.
The night before I was in the radiation room alone waiting for my 5am wake up call to take me into surgery to insert the radiation rod inside me. Terror rose. I picked up the oil pastels for the first time and drew the sensations of terror inside my body directly onto the page.
When radiation began, it felt like bullets shooting up my vagina. I began to burn internally. The experience was horrific and I knew I could not move because that would move the radiation rod which was inserted in me. Nothing could console me. No book, no movie, the written word, crocheting… nothing. I was alone with the radiation machine.
I reached out for the oil pastels and began to place colour on the page, and just as I had done the previous night, tuned in directly to each emotion I was experiencing. And then I would get another colour, and tune in again. And this way, I kept laying colours on top of eachother, kept feeling into each emotion. And then I started to scratch on the layers and other colours appeared. Each drawing was my lifeline. A vital act. Each drawing was also an anchor for me to remain connected to myself and to not lose my mind.
