Crushed hand in new dressing + cube 6 Nov 2009
6 Nov 09
7 Nov 09
12 Nov 09
The stitched and pinned fingers were secure. Because I could feel something poking into one of them I went for an early dressing change. No thank you to the invitation to look at the x-rays or my hand. Not yet. In the plaster room the medic adjusted the worrisome wire, released the index finger and re-bandaged my hand with the first of many dressings. It was a relief to see a whole finger joining a working thumb.
Whatever their closed thoughts the medical staff never openly passed judgment on the nature or cause of my injury and accident. They made sympathetic noises and simply got on with the job.
Most other people have been kind, offering a range of condolences, from vengeful, “I hope the door looks worse” and pragmatic, ‘There are amazing artists who draw with their feet’ through to measured, “It might have been worse, you didn’t actually lose your fingers” and chastening, “Self-inflicted …sorry, mate, no sympathy.”
A couple of years ago while walking in the Kentish countryside I was bit by the little dog rather than the Alsatian in an unprovoked attack. My husband was helping the owner read a map. I was standing nearby. “He probably thought you might threaten me”, the owner said as I looked at the blood and teeth marks on my leg. I developed a fear of dogs.
Perhaps the garage door felt threatened by my efforts to close it. It wanted to remain open. I tried to shut it. In a disagreement with a garage door, the door will always win. Hands down. Now I’m afraid of doors. I hesitate in front of them. I let people open them for me. It means I encourage chivalry to get a toe-hold in my 21st century.
Artists are expected to explore places they fear the most, address things that are being avoided, go to places of uncertainty and insecurity. On the wall in the study is a copy I made of ‘Fear’ by Karel Appel. I first saw Appel’s painting years ago in an exhibition in Phoenix and have been captivated by it ever since. Appel’s ‘Fear’ embodies the emotion, capturing it in bold gashes of colour and primitive forms. There’s something lurking in the background but we don’t know what it is…a figure, perhaps in a cage or dark structure staring out with its own face of fear. This is Appel’s terrible vision of fear stripped down, revealing and raw.
I have yet to give form to my own version of that place. I drew the flowers instead.
Coming up next in the blog: pulling strings and pain