Sandra Woods
Art despite pain

In the news

It's been a busy week, since the end of the group exhibition of the Women's Art Society of Montreal (WASM) in Old Montréal last Saturday.
To start, I'm preparing for two other upcoming group shows, which open soon - on consecutive days. The "Art Expo d'art" of the Artists Circle of the West Island opens for two weeks on October 3, at the City of Montréal's Pierrefonds Cultural Centre. Then the three-month "Fall & Winter Nature Exhibition" at the Maison Trestler House (a National Historic Site, built in 1798), opens on October 4, 2024.

On Monday I was in meetings for two upcoming art-related chronic pain projects, for which I'm a Patient Partner; one as a committee member, and the other as a co-presenter.
Both are linked to my  Art Despite Pain initiative, which uses my paintings to raise awareness of pain conditions while encouraging others living with persistent pain to try creative pursuits for pain-management. Stay tuned for details of both these events; "PAINtalks 2024" in November and the other next year.

On Tuesday it was back to my 'patient life', with the morning at a specialist medical clinic for the second of my two rare diseases. The first of my rare conditions is Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS), formerly called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD). An autoimmune and neuro-inflammatory disease, CRPS has caused my Mild Cognitive Impairment (MCI), occasional full-body autoimmune fatigue, and the multiple localized symptoms in my right hand and arm; high-impact (severe) chronic pain, bone, joint, and skin issues, and frequent spasms and tremors.

My second rare disease is Fibromuscular Dysplasia (FMD), which doesn't cause pain but is considered more dangerous. FMD affects the arteries - primarily the carotids on each side of the neck, the abdominal aorta leading to the heart, and the renal arteries to the kidneys - and puts me at increased risk of aneurysm, spontaneous coronary artery dissection (SCAD), and stroke.
For this condition I have frequent monitoring by a cardiologist-internist, take several additional medications, and try even more than usual to find the beauty and joy in each day!

On that note, the best part of last week was a three-day watercolour painting Master-Class - in person - with the brilliant American artist and instructor Thomas W Schaller. It began Wednesday morning, and wound up at 1700 on Friday, at the Atelier d'aquarelle le Partage in Laval Québec (just north of Montréal).
This was the marquee event to mark the 40th anniversary of this local watercolour group, and I feel exceedingly lucky to have been able to participate.
Thomas is a truly encouraging, generous, and kind artist and teacher, while his little buddy Otis brought his own enthusiasm - for treats and doggy ear-rubs.


Each morning Thomas gave one or two painting demonstrations, starting with a discussion of his reference-photo in terms of what he'd adjust to better meet his conceptualization of a particular scene and emotion. Next he'd create a value-study, and only then sketch his plan onto watercolour paper.

This MasterClass considered the planning of each painting at a much more conceptual level than what I've actively considered before, and I really enjoyed Thomas' descriptions of his thought processes while planning a painting. 

Many of his statements struck chords for me, including these:
- "Painting is a solitary language"
- "I always want my paintings to be about something... like an emotional experience (imagined or based on personal experience). Think of the question: "What does it make you feel?"

My paintings from this workshop weren't very good, but that's okay as I was trying new techniques and learning quite a lot - and I already knew that my cognitive issues and pain would likely worsen throughout the day. My overall goal, for any art class or workshop, is to learn something new rather than to create an exhibition-quality painting.
With the many symptoms of my two different rare diseases, it's often difficult for me to paint at all in the afternoons; the chronic neuropathic pain in my right hand and arm, for example, tends to worsen throughout the day - as do my cognitive issues. So I was happy to be able to paint at all!
Although I haven't been home to do any painting since this workshop ended, I'm already looking forward to trying some of what I've learned when I get back to my easel again.

In the meantime, happy first day of Autumn - and all the best for this beautiful time of colourful foliage in much of Canada and the United States!