Pear-ody

I painted this during the fall of 2005 while I was undergoing my second round of chemotherapy for breast cancer. The following was written for the show, Metamorphosis, where the piece was displayed.


2005 has been an amazingly transformative year for me. I turned 50 in January. Finally it became impossible to shy away from the stigma/joy/challenges/relief of being middle aged.

Secondly, I moved from watercolors to oils and have been reveling in their bold pigments and sculptural qualities. I love their texture and the freedom to make decisions midway through a piece. I’m having way more fun than ever before.

In early summer, I had to let my 15 year old dog go. Roxy was not well physically and I could no longer care for her. She was a part of my identity. She was my most constant companion and greatest muse. I still miss her everyday.

Lastly, and perhaps most dramatically, I was diagnosed with breast cancer in February. Unfortunately, my malignant tumor had been misdiagnosed as a benign cyst and the cancer was in an advanced state. While I felt great, I had to ingest tremendous amounts of chemotherapy that made me fragile, threw me abruptly into menopause and denuded me of every hair on my body. The first round of chemo was only partially successful, so after the surgeons attempted to cut out every bit of the cancer possible, the doctors put me back on chemotherapy to try and keep the cancer from spreading any further.

Surprisingly, the greatest impact of the cancer has been emotional. My illness has been a white water raft ride of discovery. Thrills and spills. Highs and lows. I have discovered the importance of my beloved friends and family, the wonder of each moment in each precious day, and the strength and devotion of my husband.

What do my pears have to do with all these changes in my life? I have always loved painting pears because of their gorgeous shapes. I use the pear as everyman. Each one of us is the same, a pear. Every one of us is so different. Each of these pears is a caricature of me during some phase of the changes that have occurred over the last nine months. I especially used color to provide you with a hint at my emotions. Also look at the placement of the pear in its space. One of the pears is missing a slice. So am I. One of them has been split in half and is vulnerable. Ironically, since my bilateral mastectomy, I am more pear-shaped than ever. Hopefully some of them look happy and hopeful and determined. And if they just look like brightly colored pears, that is good too.