Turn the Page

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I am always giving into daydreams of the future. What might happen. What steps I can take to turn things around. Or, conversely, steps I can take to keep things the same.

I do believe in letting life play out as it may.

But I also believe in trying to prevent accidents from happening. To prevent missteps, miscalculations, and mistakes. Of counting my steps and watching my step.

I have been forgetting little things lately. More than lately. For the last year or two. Nothing big — just things. I am constantly reminded that I am forgetting these things. Out of kindness, mind you — but I am being reminded I tend to forget.

I always wonder if this is the beginning. The beginning, maybe not of the end, but the beginning of turning the page. Of dealing with things differently than before.

I was never really an independent kind of girl, but I did work where I wanted and married who I wanted and started a business in another state. I had two children that I adore and have three grandkids that take my heart away. My world was my choice. Influenced by outside factors, people, and situations, yes. But still my choice.

I am starting to wonder, though– will this all change as times goes by?

Will this all change as I turn the page?

Words like dementia, Alzheimer’s, senility, all haunt my dreams. We do what we can to remember, but time takes away parts of our being every day. Tiny parts. Miniscule parts that you cannot even measure.  Suddenly all the miniscule parts start to add up. You forget directions, you forget to turn the gas all the way off. You forget the date and you forget birthdates. You fall a little more than you used to, get dizzy sometimes or bang your leg on more things than ever.  Every symptom becomes cancer or Covid or the beginning of some other drastic disease, because, at this point, it just could be that.

Maybe it’s just that I’m forgetting things.

It happens to us all. I refuse to be frightened by it. Or distracted by it. Or controlled by it.

But I do acknowledge it.

After reading and blogging about the American artist William Utermohlen who died from Alzheimer’s , I could see a talent far greater than mine waste away with time and disease. 

I wondered if that would someday be me.

I wonder if that someday will be all of us.

I’ve also heard positive things about turning the page ….

Sometimes you just have to turn the page to realize there’s more to your book of life than the page you’re stuck on. Stop being afraid to move on. Close this chapter [of hurt] and never re-read it … let your future create something better. ~Trent Shelton

I think I can do that. Move forward despite all the flags that are popping up in my way. I figure, I’ve got to go that direction anyway … why not jump on the pony and she where she goes? 

 

 

William Utermohlen — Signs of Alzheimer’s

 

Conversation Pieces, Loyola University Museum of Art, Chicago

This is a little bit Sunday Evening Art Gallery post, a little Humoring the Goddess post. You’ll see what I mean.

I am a sucker for those “10 Things You Didn’t Know About …..” Most of them are flops, but every now and then I come across something that is extraordinary.

 

In 1995, U.K.-based American artist William Utermohlen was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

1967

 

Before his death, Utermohlen created a heart-wrenching final series of self-portraits over the stages of Alzheimer’s, which lasted roughly five years.

1996

 

The last self-portraits, painted between 1995 and 2001, are unique artistic, medical, and psychological documents. They portray a man doomed yet fighting to preserve his identity and his place in the world in the face of an implacable disease encroaching on his mind and senses. 

1997

 

Alzheimer’s symptoms not only include memory loss or dementia and personality changes but it also affects the part of the brain, which is responsible for visualizing capabilities, so crucial for a painter.

1998

 

With Alzheimer’s progressing, the art becomes visibly more abstract, blurrier and vague, due to the loss of the aforementioned capabilities.

1999

 

The artist’s widow Patricia explains exactly why these images are so powerful:  “In these pictures we see with heart-breaking intensity William’s efforts to explain his altered self, his fears and his sadness.”

2000

 

Apart from portraits, still lives and drawings from the model, Utermohlen’s art can be arranged in six clear thematic cycles: The “Mythological” paintings of 1962-63; the “Cantos” of 1965-1966 inspired by Dante’s Inferno; the “Mummers” cycle of 1969-1970 depicting characters from South Philadelphia’s New Year’s Day parade; the “War” series of 1972 alluding to the Vietnam war; the “Nudes” of 1973-74; and finally the “Conversation Pieces”, the great decorative interiors with figures, of 1989-1991.

William Utermohlen died March 21, 2007. The mere thought that this artist tried to paint his being through the very end of his Alzheimer’s pays tribute to the creative soul in each one of us.

More of William Utermohlen’s story and paintings can be found at Bored Panda and Chris Boïcos Fine Arts websites.