the healing power of art

The women of Mary's Place led the way

Next month, an autobiographical exhibition, "Terrible Beauty | under the canopy" opens in Seattle.   This exhibition is grounded in a childhood experience of sexual assault by a group of teenage boys. A few people have asked why come forward now in this very public venue for such a personal subject.  Of course, art can be an incredibly powerful vehicle for expression, but in reality, this series has been years in the making. At the time, the assault was so far beyond my understanding and I lacked any sort of context to make sense of it.  Complete confusion, trauma and a vague sense of shame followed me from that day on and led to my decision before I even got home that day to never tell anyone.  I kept that promise to myself for over twenty years.  The death of my father seemed to be the trigger that washed away that cracked and broken wall. Grief for my father infused itself with sorrow for what was lost that traumatic day several years earlier.  The secret became an overwhelming burden that had to be let go of.  I chose to break my silence and thus began the long and cumbersome journey to healing.  

A few years later in 2006 I was sitting with a group of homeless women from Mary’s Place, a day shelter for women in Seattle.  I grew to know and love these women through my weekly volunteer work teaching art.  I came to see them as some of the strongest and most courageous women I had ever met when I saw how they handled the daily grind of life in the streets.  The subject of childhood sexual assault came up innocently enough in conversation one day while we were painting.  Each one had their own heartbreaking story.  I sat in silence and was not ready to share mine.  It bothered me a bit that I could not speak up.  That was the day that I made up my mind that someday I would take that step into the wider world.  I would do art about this very personal and difficult subject. This process of returning to the day of the assault has been neither short nor easy.  Returning to that very dark space and time demanded honesty, a certain kind of fearlessness and compassion for one's self.  After an initial and difficult self reckoning, the physical experience of getting words and ideas out proved strongly cathartic.  In addition, the repetitive nature of completing certain pieces became a deliberate meditative journey to healing.  Frankly, it stunned me that after completing the workI was left with the sense that a tremendous weight had been lifted,  This mental, emotional and artistic journey had been well worth it.  Going back and giving that small girl a voice has made all the difference all of these years later and I will always be grateful to those women of Mary's Place for showing me the way.

an artist's long journey to healing

PRESS RELEASE

TERRIBLE BEAUTY : under the canopy

A young girl making her way home and a carefree bike ride near the woods become an irreparable encounter with a group of teenage boys. In that moment, her life shifts for years to come.   Amy Pleasant, the artist, creates a body of work rooted in personal experience as a survivor of childhood sexual assault.  The result is an exploration of trauma, healing and the nature of memory; the adult looking back as an observer applying visual language to a life changing event in the woods.

In the moment, the mind’s protective detachment created distracting innocuous snapshots which morphed into iconic visual images of that day’s horrible events.  The physical details of the terror and trauma yolked with the victim’s perspective, laying in the dirt under that tree.  These images became visual metaphors which marked the day the world became a dangerous place. The psychological carnage left in its wake led to a long and complex journey all survivors must take to reclaim their dignity and power.

Installation artwork, paintings and media reflect a personal exploration of the memory of trauma and the imagery which lingered through the years.  The exhibition creates a microcosmic visit to that day in the 1960's embedded with the suggestion of the passing of time, restoration and integration. The closure of a decades long journey giving a voice to the young girl without a voice. The exhibition will run June 2 - July 3, 2016 at Gallery 110 in Seattle.  Opening: First Thursday Art Walk, Thursday, June 2, 6-8pm.  Artist reception:Saturday, June 4,  artist talk @ 7:00 (6-8pm)  Gallery 110 hours: Thur. -  Sat. 12-5.

 

Exhibition made possible byArtist Trust.

a way back

A Grand Entrance


difficult to remember,

only a suggestion of a memory,

life before illness,

a faded spot on the wall

slightly evident from a distance,

the shrunken world which followed

this house; half cocoon now.

is there courage enough to step outside into the sun?

among those who have been going about their lives,

while i have waited

sitting here with my argumentative companions; hopefulness and hopelessness.

shall i put them both out of their misery and go out for a walk?



a bird's magic

With illness and recovery from surgery comes lots of firsts, including a car trip over 30 minutes for the first time in three years.  My friends took me to the Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary in British Columbia.  The most amazing natural beauty is complemented by those creatures who use the delta as their stop on the way to other lands.   We saw dozens of bald eagles, swans, two great horned owls, a variety of ducks, finches and one tree filled with nine cranes.  My euphoria of being out in the world, in this most beautiful corner, could only be matched by the visual metaphor of the birds provided. The world is a beautiful place.

an invitation to grow up

As an artist, I was drawn to the visual and allegorical exploration of family and generational transition. Perhaps I saw the handwriting on the wall in my own family back in 2010.  My first series, “Family Album” resulted from my mother’s desire to hand down the family albums and the stories that accompanied them.  My aunt was equally interested in passing down what was left of memories of a life fully lived.  The idea of transition was all theory then; that was before the care taking, the witness of the deterioration of the body,  the prolonged goodbye.

Both women died in 2012 just two months apart. My father had passed years earlier. I found the final moment, although expected, was followed by grief that seized the heart like a vice only to slowly loosen over time.  The grief supplanted by a shift in perspective, an openness towards those who have passed and a confirmation in my own belief that we really are all doing the best we can with who we are.  

Families are a messy business.  It is the most common and the most intimate of all human experience.  Our experiences range from love, anger, joy, frustration, jealousy, ambivalence, compassion.  Its all there.  We can’t run from who we are and a large part of who we are lays at the feet of these experiences.  The death of our parents are an invitation not only to grow up, but an opportunity to look at it all through a different, more objective lens.  Perhaps these writings and paintings serve as a vehicle for remembrance, closure, redemption or forgiveness, or simply a way to make peace.